


From the Wreckage

by blueblack-poked-stars (delicate_mageflower)



Series: I Was Lost Without You [1]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Bipolar Shepard, Colonist (Mass Effect), Crew as Family, Dissociation, F/M, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, Jewish Shepard, Kaidan is autistic (fight me), Kaidan's Family - Freeform, Mass Effect 1, Mutual Pining, Neurodiversity, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, Repressed Memories, Sexual Content, Shepard's Family - Freeform, Shepard/Sha'ira, Sole Survivor (Mass Effect), Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-13 02:46:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12974112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicate_mageflower/pseuds/blueblack-poked-stars
Summary: Carrie Shepard has been assigned to the most important posting of her career thus far, but neither she nor her crew could have expected the extent to which all of their lives are about to change.[each chapter is delicately crafted around a different song, which will always be linked in-fic, and listening ishighlyrecommended; ongoing playlist also availablehere]





	1. Forever Has No End But Has a Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intended listening: [Faunts - "Of Nature"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uChlP1Uv9zo)
> 
> CW for references to substance abuse/self-medication

Lieutenant Commander Carrie Shepard, recently promoted, has been given the honor of shadowing the infamous Captain David Anderson.

One of the most decorated soldiers humanity has ever produced and, most importantly to her, one of the very first N7s.

She could never even begin to overstate what a privilege this assignment is.

“Lieutenant,” he sits her down in private one day at Arcturus Station. She somehow knows implicitly that whatever he is about to tell her is about to change the course of her entire life, and she is ready. “I’ve been assigned to a ship. A new class of frigate, a prototype. I can’t reveal all the details yet, but I’m recommending you for my XO.”

This takes her entirely by surprise, and she has to take a breath to steel herself, not to crack under how much this means to her.

“Thank you, sir,” she replies formally, her eyes alight. “I’m honored.”

She couldn’t even begin to count how many times she’s told him that in the few solar months or so she’s known him. She is 28 years old, fairly young yet, but already more experienced than most. She hasn’t had too many noteworthy posts despite her record, but that comes as a result of her reputation. If she wasn’t so talented a biotic, she’d likely have been discharged years ago.

But here she is with a new rank and a new commendation, working under one of her heroes.

“So, Shepard,” Anderson addresses her casually. “N7, right?”

“Yes, sir,” she answers eagerly. She knows it’s all in her file, that she won’t tell him anything new, but she’ll happily humor him. “Top of my class. I was the last to run out of air during initiation.”

“I bet you were,” he laughs. “I heard about Akuze. That must have been hell.”

“Yes, sir.” Her gaze moves to the floor. “My first command. Fifty marines in my unit. And I lost everyone.”

“But that’s when you were chosen for the program, yes?” He sounds almost forgiving. It is never a way she has been able to speak to herself on the subject.

“Yes, sir.” She looks back up, meets his eyes once more.

“You can drop the formalities,” he says with a smile. This is not at all what she expected and he knows it. “I know the soldier. I’m interested in getting to know the person.”

“Yes, sir,” she replies, and she follows by laughing at herself. “Sorry, habit. Anderson.”

“That’ll do for now, Shepard,” he says warmly. “Does Shepard suffice, or should I call you Carrie?”

He’s taken a strong interest in her ever since they first met, from the moment he laid eyes on the woman behind the dossier. She’s been through so much, and his need to look out for her is unconventional at best (more like unprofessional, if he’s honest). But here it is.

“I prefer Shepard, thank you,” she tells him, and he can’t say he didn’t anticipate that.

He knows she’s the only Shepard she has left, after all.

“Alright, Shepard,” he says easily. It’s…fatherly, really, and she isn’t sure what to make of it. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I don’t know…Anderson,” she makes sure to say, to follow his lead. “You know my record. I’m not sure what else there is to add.”

She doesn’t know how to tell him that soldier is pretty much her whole identity. She doesn’t know who she was before the Alliance found her, and she doesn’t want to be who she was turning into before she officially enlisted.

“You’ve gotten yourself into some trouble over the past few years, haven’t you?” It isn’t really a question, as he already has the answer. But he doesn’t want her to tell him it’s true, he wants to _understand_ the truth behind it.

“I…” She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know what to tell him. “Sort of.”

Something untold, so much left untold. She falls apart, she doesn’t sleep. She has difficulty regulating her emotions, and often everything will come undone.

She’s read about it, to try to better understand herself, her very nature. She doesn’t remember much from her childhood or her family, but she knows her parents had wanted her to do so before she lost them. They wanted her to get help, though, something she has never once pursued.

She has no doubt that she is bipolar, but she has no interest in a diagnosis. That will only bring her stigma, that will only make the Alliance wary. They like her when she’s manic, but they don’t need to know why. And she’s gotten pretty good at hiding when she’s depressed, no one needs that to get in the way. She can do her job without the bullshit adding that to her file would bring.

She has no doubt that she suffers complex post-traumatic stress disorder, and that hers is quite severe (more like completely out of control, if she’s being honest). But she won’t risk being relieved from duty, even temporarily. This is who she is, this is all she knows. She can’t lose it. She _won’t._

“This is all off the record,” Anderson tells her. “Just between us. No judgments.”

She is almost inclined to believe him about the latter statement. She doesn’t know why, but she is inclined to trust him. And not as a superior, but as a person.

“I was only 23 when I was stationed on Akuze,” she admits. “I was only 16 when I lost my home and my family. I haven’t always coped in the healthiest of ways, but I’ve moved past that.”

She ends on a bold faced lie, but as for the rest…as for the rest, this is the most she has _ever_ spoken on either subject.

The days drag on when she falls into the existential despair that follows such trauma on top of an untreated and extreme mood disorder. The days drag on when she doesn’t understand why she doesn’t die.

She’s often been called a survivor. She’s never once believed it.

It’s simply been the nature of her circumstance. It doesn’t have to make sense. Tragedy rarely does.

“That’s an interesting way to describe it,” Anderson shakes his head.

It’s hard to say what precisely he is referring to. She has never _actually_ gotten into proper trouble over any of it, contradictory to Anderson’s wording. She’s been found passed out on a bathroom floor from alcohol or drug use more than once, but she’s never received more than a slap on the wrist. It helps her case that this has only occurred while on shore leave, and that the amount of times it has happened vastly outnumbers the amount of times she’s been caught, but it has not gone unnoticed. Her biotic strength has made it easy for her superiors to look the other way, however, coupled with a substantial dose of pity for her background. But she knows there’s only so far she could go before meeting that real trouble, and she gave up the drugs and eased off the alcohol after she was recruited to the Interplanetary Combatives Training program, and that’s saved her ass over the years.

“As I said, no judgments,” Anderson reiterates, much to her bemusement. “I’ve spent many a night losing myself in sleazy bars, too, Shepard. I can’t understand what _you’ve_ gone through, but I get it. And your record is otherwise exemplary. It’s amazing no one’s recommended you for this kind of position sooner.”

“You get it, though,” she shrugs. “I’m lucky I’m here right now at all.”

“No, Shepard, I am,” he assures her. “I’m supposed to receive word on my crew within the next few days. I’ll let you know if my request is approved as soon as I hear. In the meantime, you’re dismissed.”

“Sir,” she stands at attention and salutes, automatically reverting back to professionalism for her exit.

Something is different about this, and she is intrigued to see where it leads.

***

“Navigator Charles Pressly, Dr. Karin Chakwas, Engineer Greg Adams,” Anderson runs through the list of introductions, their new crew assembled on his new ship, the absolutely spectacular SSV Normandy SR-1. Neither of them have ever seen anything like this, and she is _beautiful._ He continues walking to greet their team. “Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau, Corporal Richard Jenkins, and Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko.”

If she thought the Normandy was gorgeous, the way Kaidan smiles at her is…

It’s wrong to think about. He’s her subordinate, not some shameless loser drinking beside her whose eye she simply happens to catch and whose name she’ll never learn.

But this moment matters. Somehow she knows, this moment matters. A new beginning is taking her, an end crashes through. She stands by watching it unfold, this strange awakening she cannot place.

Somehow she knows that everything is about to change. Somehow she knows.

“And we’re being joined by a Spectre shortly,” Anderson adds after a pause.

“On a shakedown run?” Jenkins asks loudly. He’s young, new. His dossier shows that he’s from the colony they’re heading to, so this posting makes sense. And he catches himself quickly enough. “Sorry. Sir.”

“Yes, Corporal,” Anderson says firmly. Authoritative. It’s a side of him Shepard hasn’t seen in weeks, with the side he’s grown to regularly show her having become so natural she’d nearly forgotten who he _actually_ is to them. “You all have your orders. Now, to your stations. Shepard, my office.”

She follows him to the captain’s quarters, and her first thought is how much she hopes to earn a setup like this someday.

“This about Jenkins?” She asks as soon as she sits down. She hasn’t been responsible for a ground team since Akuze, and she is slightly afraid of how nervous it makes her now that she’s here. She’s going to have to keep this one in line, she worries. She knows Anderson respects her, and that she’s his XO because he trusts her with the job, but she has second thoughts about whether or not she’s up for it.

“Alenko, actually,” Anderson replies, and she is as oddly relieved as she is curious. “I put you two together for a reason. He’s older, more seasoned. Has a bit of a shaky past, too. Nothing at all like yours, but you might find some common ground somewhere along the way. Most importantly, however, is that Lieutenant Alenko is _the_ most powerful biotic the Alliance has ever come across, and I’m including you.”

“Sounds like you’re hoarding all the talent,” Shepard teases.

“Maybe,” he chuckles. “Alenko is biotically comparable to a trained asari. The two of you together could raise all kinds of hell. But I also thought you should know that he’s fitted with the L2 implant.”

“Oh shit,” Shepard says quietly. She doesn’t know a whole lot about the old configurations, other than that there’s good reason they’re not used anymore and she’s damn lucky to have missed that boat.

“Talk to Dr. Chakwas if you have any questions about it,” Anderson continues. “But he’s a true asset to the Alliance and he will be vital to this team. He’s also a tech expert _and_ a gifted field medic.”

“He sounds perfect,” Shepard smiles, pretending she isn’t also thinking of the odd spark she felt when she looked at him.

“This is a damn impressive team, and I expect great things,” Anderson notes. “Dismissed.”

She leaves Anderson’s cabin and stops to watch Kaidan standing alone in a corner, tinkering with his omni-tool. There is a focus, and she finds that she cannot look away from something so mundane.

She hopes he doesn’t notice, as captured by his work as he appears.

She stands by watching, captivated.

She can’t explain it. She doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want it.

She thinks of speaking to him, telling herself she’ll follow with making rounds all around the ship for proper introductions. She doesn’t.

Seconds feel like hours, uncomfortable as she is in her inability to tear herself away.

She’s staring. She is very blatantly staring. It was his face that caught her attention so thoroughly the first time, but now she’s noticed the rest of him.

From the corner of his eye, it is very clear that she’s staring at his ass. What’s more shocking to him is that he likes it. What’s most shocking to him is that he’s looking up, staring back.

Not that he wasn’t staring when they first met earlier. It was just fortunate then that she was too busy to notice.

Now, however, their eyes lock on each other’s for one fleeting moment, and break away as soon as they do. Neither of them know what to do. So they do nothing.

Shepard decides it’s been a long day and while she doesn’t believe for a moment that she’ll be sleeping anytime soon, that is where she goes. The night will carry on without her, floating through the void, in proximity to the most beautiful person she has ever seen, who a thousand mental blocks and Alliance regs say she can’t go anywhere near except as a fellow marine.

Everything could come undone. Nothing is as it was.

She doesn’t see the way he goes on to silently admire her as she had just done to him while he watches her walk away. He hasn’t spoken a single word to her, but there is something about her that compels him. He hasn’t _genuinely_ looked at someone this way since he was a teenager. That on its own is very telling.

He saw her eyes as Anderson introduced her, though. He saw more behind them than he could possibly know anything about, but from what he _has_ heard about her…

Everyone knows about Mindoir. Everyone knows about Akuze. To endure one or the other is horrific enough, but to live through both and still be intact enough to ever see or speak to anyone again after is incredible. He needs to talk to her. He needs to look into her eyes again, to find what he knows is hiding in there.

He has to remind himself that he doesn’t know her. He reads people well, he’s been told it’s a gift, and he too easily absorbs the emotions of those around him, sometimes even those they don’t actively show. But that’s what makes him want to know her as badly as he does. That’s what causes him to stare, even beyond how beautiful he finds her.

There’s something to this. There is more to this.

There is more to a shakedown run that will be accompanied by a Spectre. There is more to the way Shepard interacts with Anderson. And there is more to Shepard. He knows.

Oh, he knows.

As does she.

There’s a feeling all around the whole of the ship. This is something. This moment matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While it is not obviously not mandatory per se, I cannot possibly stress enough how strongly I have intended the listening of the song that accompanies any given chapter.
> 
> Also, I will make a point to put any necessary warnings in the beginning notes of each chapter, and tags and potentially rating will be updated as we go.
> 
> And my apologies to anyone who has read any of Carrie's story before and is therefore having things repeated at them, I am simply making no assumptions.
> 
> Fic title taken from the Mass Effect 1 soundtrack.


	2. Swimming the Same Deep Water As You Is Hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intended listening: [The Cure - "The Same Deep Water As You"](https://youtu.be/ZzYmIOSVPwo)

“Fuck,” Shepard exclaims, pacing frantically around outside the crew quarters. _“Fuck.”_

Landing into a geth ambush, losing a squadmate _and_ the observing Spectre, and then to top it all off, the beacon…

“Commander,” Kaidan quietly catches her attention when she passes him by.

“Alenko,” she sighs and their eyes meet for a split second, but she can’t stop moving.

It sure as hell looks like she can’t, anyway. He isn’t sure exactly what she’s doing, but he doubts she’s doing it intentionally.

“Need something, Lieutenant?” She is visibly trying to slow herself down, he can see she’s trying, but now she’s circling him. He finds it difficult to watch her move like this (already having a fairly hard time repeatedly internally telling himself that everything that’s just happened did not give him a migraine, and that he has not been most regrettably pushing himself past his limits for the last 15 hours).

“No, ma’am,” he answers quickly. “Just wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”

She smiles at him, or so he thinks, the strangest twist upon her lips. It’s the same way she smiled at him when she told him not to blame himself for losing the beacon, or for the fact that she was just waking up in the med bay after losing a significant span of time.

Which is also why he’s concerned for her running around like this, why he wants to help.

Well, that and…

No, he can’t look at her like that. She’s his superior and there is protocol. Regs against fraternization exist for good reason, and he has no interest in screwing around with the chain of command and all the trouble that could bring them.

It’s damn hard not to look, though, not to be interested in _her._

“I’m…” She wants to tell him that she is, wants to say she’s fine. Except that she doesn’t want to tell him that at all, not really. There is something about him that makes her feel safe, that makes her feel like she can trust him. She doesn’t know him well, though, so she tells herself she’s being ridiculous. Maybe Anderson’s influence is already getting to her. She’ll go with that.

They’re treading water, trying to keep their heads up above. But they’re trying.

“I guess I’m still just a bit shaken from the vi—from whatever the fuck I saw back there,” she breathes out. Breathing is becoming increasingly harder to manage. This is more like drowning.

She doesn’t truly understand what’s going on, but she knows it’s bad. Having an episode like _this_ follow visions no one else could see, however, does not make her feel very good.

“I appreciate the concern,” she adds, and there’s that smile again.

“Of course,” he says, perhaps a bit too casually. He awkwardly clears his throat and hopes she doesn’t notice. “Commander.”

“Are _you_ okay, Alenko?” She almost looks as though she is about to stop, but she apparently cannot yet make herself.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies too quickly. “Bit of a headache is all.”

“Dr. Chakwas told me,” she admits, and he officially has to stop watching her. “Migraine? That’s what this is?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says quietly. “It happens from time to time. It won’t affect my performance.”

“I’ve seen what you can do out there, Alenko, and it’s damn impressive,” she offers. “Captain Anderson requested you for this post because he sees something in you, and I trust his judgment. And based on what I saw on Eden Prime, he was right. But you need to take care of yourself. If you’re in pain, Lieutenant, report to the med bay ASAP.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” he snaps to attention, admittedly a little embarrassed. He always gets nervous about letting new superiors in on the side effects of his implant, and even when his migraines inevitably come out, he _never_ elaborates. He isn’t sure the daily aches and pains the L2 puts the rest of his body through could be found anywhere in his file, because he simply doesn’t talk about it. He’d let the migraines slide, too, if he could; unfortunately, those symptoms are far too debilitating to keep secret. He pushes as long and as hard as he can, though, often relying on how easy it is for others to misjudge the severity of the condition, until eventually it pushes back and pulls him down.

He looks back over his shoulder walking towards the med bay to catch her moving on to jogging in figure eights between tables in the mess, picking up her pace.

He wants to go back to her, but he doesn’t know what he could do. Hell, he doesn’t even know what to _say._

He tries not to be too hard on himself for feeling helpless watching her struggle, for getting too close to the beacon to begin with, for having to deal with his head right now.

Thankfully they hadn’t had to double back too far, getting back to the ship, but having to carry Shepard with the explosion likely being responsible for gaining the attention of the geth incoming certainly made it much more complicated of an issue. Joker had been able to get in closer for the pickup, but not as close as Kaidan would have liked given the circumstances. It was great to have Ashley at his back, though; they’d never have made it out of there without her. He’s glad she’s staying. After what _she_ went through down there, too, after all she lost…she’ll fit in well here.

“Hey, Dr. Chakwas,” he says softly upon entering the med bay, finally surrendering. It’s always worse when he tries to hold his migraines back like he has been, manifesting with an absolute vengeance once they do get the better with him as opposed to disappearing through sheer denial. And now that he’s here, he knows how terrible of an idea it was to try to outlast it. The migraine wins. The migraine always wins.

It’s comforting to know that Shepard only seems to care about him adequately treating them, that she doesn’t seem to judge them being an issue to start with.

“Oh, I know _that_ face,” Dr. Chakwas says upon turning towards him. She’s very maternal, another odd comfort to be found aboard this ship. “Come along, Lieutenant.”

“Hey, umm, Doctor,” he starts again upon lying down and anxiously awaiting whatever solution she will deem necessary. He hopes it isn’t the one that knocks him completely on his ass with the god awful muscle spasms that make him feel like he’s jumping straight out of his damn skin. He may be phenomenal at keeping the rest of his pain to himself, but shaking as violently as that shit forces him to tends to make it far more of a challenge.

“Yes, Kaidan?” Dr. Chakwas responds gently. She’s already using first names. He decides he likes that. Although she still refers to Shepard exclusively as “Shepard,” as does Anderson despite how close the two of them clearly are. He assumes there must be a greater reason behind it, perhaps something personal on Shepard’s end.

Not that it’s his place to question, neither is it his place to speak up in the exact way he is about to do.

“The Commander…I don’t know if I should say anything, but should someone check on her?” He shakes his head and immediately regrets it, doing his best to brace himself for what the doctor is preparing for him, which is exactly as he feared. “She’s—or at least she was—running around out there like…I don’t…I don’t know, but…”

“It’s nothing to do with a head injury, I’m sure,” Dr. Chakwas answers nonchalantly. It’s a breach of confidentiality, and it’s simply wrong in any case, to tell Kaidan that Anderson gave her the brief on what Shepard somehow thinks she’s been subtle about. It isn’t her place to divulge such information, of course, especially when Shepard has not even done so to her or Anderson, herself.

“Now,” she continues, blatantly seeking to change the subject, “I assume you’re familiar with this treatment.”

“Yes,” he grimaces. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Give the Commander a few hours to settle down,” she decides it’s safe enough to add, to try to ease his mind at least a little bit. “She’ll be fine, I promise. Stop worrying and focus on yourself right now, alright.”

That is far easier said than done, but it is only a moment after that the administration of medication leaves him no choice.

Outside the med bay, Shepard has moved on to running laps around navigation, where everyone on deck has to keep reminding themselves that murdering the ship’s XO would surely not look good on their records.

Eventually Anderson will call her into his cabin, and she will continue pacing up and down while he lets her vent about what a disaster Eden Prime was, and she will accidentally call him “Dad” for the very first (but oh so far from last) time. Laughing and shouting she will go, but it will only be a matter of time before the ripples turn to waves, taking her lower, slowing her down until she stops. This episode will, thankfully, remain on the more minor end when all is said and done, and it will in fact be only a few more hours before she completely crashes and falls asleep crying on Anderson’s floor, where he will not disturb her until she gets up on her own. None of them are looking forward to going to the Citadel, to taking this to the Council.

In the meantime all they can do is rest and recuperate. In the meantime, they can only try not to drown in these yet so shallow waters, and hope for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The real life migraine treatment being referenced is (aside from being absolute hell) casually known as the "migraine cocktail," which is Compazine, Toradol, and Benadryl administered intravenously. Not only is the violent shaking the actual worst, but it also burns like a motherfucker going in. Of course, I don't know what acute treatment for migraines will _really_ look like in 2183, but as a chronic migraine sufferer, myself, I have a lot of emotions about Kaidan having to deal with this and I also write this experience accurately because it's so easy for someone who has never experienced a migraine to downplay how awful they are (they're not "just headaches," is all I'm saying). So yeah. There's my unasked for say on that.


	3. In the Shadow of Your Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intended listening: [Florence + the Machine - "Cosmic Love"](https://youtu.be/2EIeUlvHAiM)
> 
> This chapter is for [fereldandoglords](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fereldandoglords)

They’ve been wandering around the Citadel for hours.

The Council won’t listen to anything about what happened on Eden Prime, and just like a typical politician, Ambassador Udina isn’t of any help.

And so they wander, desperate for a break. They have some further investigations to follow through on before they go, but walking and talking as they have has led them to (of all places) Sha’ira the Consort’s chambers.

And after the awkward slip Kaidan made earlier that pretty much entirely admitted how he feels about Shepard, this is the last thing he needs.

Kaidan and Ashley sit outside while Shepard and the Consort meet behind closed doors, and Ashley is all too amused.

“She thinks you’re cute,” Ashley offers. “The Commander. I saw the way she smiled at you at the overlook.”

Kaidan would love to be anywhere else, talking about anything else.

There’s an odd compassion to Shepard that Kaidan had somewhat sensed and that took Ashley completely by surprise. She stops and talks to people she passes by, and there is something about her that appears to make people quick to open up to her. She’s been entrusted with what feels like a thousand strangers’ problems since their arrival, and she hasn’t turned away a single one.

Which has led them here, to Sha’ira. And to that moment when Shepard had received some of that famous advice but not been satisfied.

And now to _this._

He actually agrees with Ashley, though: he thinks Shepard likes him, too. Maybe she’s simply as stuck on what to do with that as he is.

And just as he wasn’t too thrown by Shepard’s impressively friendly nature and apparent need to solve every dilemma that happens to occur anywhere near her, he is also entirely unsurprised to learn that she is evidently as heterosexual as she is neurotypical.

He has to wonder what else they have in common.

They really would have so much to talk about if either of them could bring themselves to begin a real conversation.

“Hey,” Ashley says seriously, looking towards him. “You alright there, LT?”

“Yeah,” he answers hastily. “Of course.”

He doesn’t realize that he is, in fact, part of the reason Shepard is doing this. She knows just as well as he does, of course, that the way that she looks at him isn’t okay, and this is her chance to take some time for distraction.

He doesn’t know that Shepard had not anticipated this, that her uncomfortable response to the Consort’s gift of words was not a lack of gratitude but simply not knowing how to respond to being told she is meant for greatness.

Actually, he _did_ see that point all too easily; he’s not sure if Ashley picked up on it at all, but it was abundantly clear to him that Shepard seemed to shrink at those words, that she was so far removed from that idea of herself that she almost appeared not to want anyone else to have it. But he still does not know that she’d never gone in expecting what she is doing now, and that she is very much hoping it will take her mind off of him, and this is the entire reason she didn’t turn it down.

It’s a strange experience for them both, the way their hearts beat just a little faster whenever they see the other, the way they each feel as though the other is leading them somewhere they didn’t know they needed, finding themselves in one another when neither had realized they’d been lost.

They’re in this darkness together. And together they could turn the stars back on.

But the twilight is safer.

He snaps a little with his tone when he responds, entirely unintentionally, but it is enough to catch Ashley. “Okay, defensive much?”

“Sorry,” he says quietly. “Sorry, I’m…yeah.”

“Yeah,” Ashley nods. She’s seen them, though, he doesn’t need him to explain.

All the way to the Citadel, Shepard and Kaidan had sat together in the mess, just talking. Nothing too far, though, neither of them yet sure where the line is, but they’re getting to know each other quickly enough.

They spoke of losing Jenkins, of how jarring it always is to see dead civilians. And he consoled her, as appropriately as he could.

He’d asked about her family, though. In all the excitement he’d all but forgotten that he already knew she’s from Mindoir, and he didn’t believe her for a second when she told him she’s moved on. But that isn’t his place, so he didn’t pry.

She mentioned Akuze, as well. It was so hard to stay silent, knowing she’s the sole survivor of such a viciously bloody massacre twice over. He can’t imagine all she’s gone through, all it must yet put her through, and to still be fit for duty…

He was right about her eyes, though. He was right in believing he saw so much more behind them. But he sees a light, too, barely managing to sneak through. Although judging by the few small asides Ashley has made, that may well be his own doing.

Because apparently it’s only there when she’s looking at him.

“Hey, you hear that, Alenko?” Ashley begins laughing, and he does not for one second have to question what she is referring to.

And so soon after that embarrassing moment in the upper wards, so soon after effectively confessing to Shepard that he’s attracted to her.

This is absolutely mortifying. Good thing Ashley at least appears to find it entertaining.

Because if they ever could try to deny what is going on behind that door right now, if they ever wanted to try to claim it was anything else, they certainly can’t any longer.

He didn’t need to know that Shepard’s a screamer. And he absolutely did not need to find out like this.

“Oh man, you’ve got it bad, don’t you?” Ashley teases, but her face falls the moment he looks to her. He’s turned a soft shade of red, but more than that, his eyes are so _sad._

“Please, Williams, I…” He looks defeated.

He knows there’s something to this, this connection he feels to Shepard. It is almost as though there is an unspoken understanding between them, and that they don’t actually need the words. It’s how he felt when he first met Rahna, and it scares him in a way. He doubts _that_ disaster could genuinely repeat, but it makes him nervous to be so heavily reminded of it like this.

“Hey…Kaidan,” Ashley smiles. She is fairly reserved, and at times even a bit standoffish, much like Kaidan. But she hasn’t had much trouble learning to get personal in the brief time they’ve known her, also much like Kaidan.

There is something about Shepard that brings this out in people, and everyone she meets sees it.

Kaidan smiles when Ashley calls him by his first name. It feels right somehow. Something about Shepard’s influence, he’s sure of it. And it doesn’t take long to take effect.

“Sorry,” Ashley finishes gently, and he nods.

Shepard is _loud,_ though. Kaidan slowly crosses his legs without thinking, a move that does not at all go unnoticed by Ashley, but she says nothing. This is clearly difficult enough.

“Shit, this is awkward,” Ashley bluntly states after another minute, spent in what they would call uncomfortable silence were it not anything but.

“Yeah,” Kaidan sighs. He wracks his brain for something, _anything_ to try to talk about, to focus on.

It is somewhat strange for Ashley, hardly knowing the Commander but somehow already feeling like she’s walked in on a sister.

For Kaidan, on the other hand, right now he could swear that this is the most beautiful sound he has ever heard, and he therefore needs to block it out.

“So we’ve got to find this C-Sec guy, right?” Ashley tries. “And _that’s_ supposed to get the Council to listen to us?”

“We don’t know what he knows,” Kaidan replies, grateful that she has found a real conversation. “After that mess in there, I don’t think we’re in a position to turn down help wherever we can get it.”

“Fair enough,” Ashley shrugs, at a loss for where to go from here. “So, umm, you’re from Earth, right?”

“Yeah,” Kaidan answers. This is _very_ awkward, but he appreciates that she’s willing to scramble for topics like this for him.

He won’t turn down help wherever he can get it.

“How about you?”

“Born on Sirona,” she tells him. “Small colony. We moved around a lot, though. Dad was military, too, so—”

“Oh hey, mine too,” he cuts in enthusiastically. “Got other family?”

“Sisters,” she answers. “Younger, three of ‘em. We keep in touch as often as we can. Ship life’s been better for that. You?”

“Just Mom and Dad,” he says. “We try to make time to talk as much as possible, too, though. It’s always nice, getting to check in. Having something to look forward to.”

“It really is,” she eases in, smiling. “Being the oldest of four in a military family’s been a huge pain in the ass sometimes, but it’s _my_ pain in the ass, you know?”

“No, but I think I understand,” he chuckles.

This is good. This is helping.

_“Fuck.”_

The increasing volume of Shepard’s voice, unfortunately, interrupts their bantering, and both Kaidan and Ashley think to themselves that the entire damn Citadel heard that.

“Damn,” Ashley can’t help but laugh. “Sorry, LT, I tried.”

“Yeah,” Kaidan looks down at the floor. “Thanks, Ash.”

He did not intend to address her _so_ informally, but neither of them mention it. It’s right. It’s what it should be, they both feel it.

And when Shepard finally walks back out, she looks so sad to see Kaidan. Her eyes fall and she is visibly anxious. The N7 on her chest, though, will likely speak for itself as they follow up on the rest of what they are _supposed to_ be there for, and it’s easy to hope that this will distract from how flustered they all are by what has just happened.

Here she is once again, backing up that reputation for careless behavior that Anderson seems so personally set on saving her from.

She isn’t sure how well Kaidan and Ashley could hear her, but it dawns on her that they must have. Ashley is wearing an odd little smirk and Kaidan’s eyes are fixed on the floor.

Sha’ira sends her off telling her that she’s done all she can for her, and Shepard believes her.

Not about being meant for greatness or whatever the hell that was (she pushes that aside and does not particularly wish to revisit it, despite how pure she knows its intentions were). What Sha’ira has _really_ given her is the knowledge that her attachment to Kaidan is even stronger than she’d thought, that this is far worse than she’s previously known.

And not even the most famously intense and notoriously expensive sex on the Citadel can take her mind off of it (not even to mention the strange sense of guilt that follows, even though she knows that she hasn’t _actually_ done anything wrong).

She doesn’t have time to worry about it, though. She can’t think about the stars in her eyes when she looks at him, or about how they cannot currently seem to look at each other at all.

But just like she told him at the overlook, they’re on duty here. They can’t let this distract them, and she’s already wasted more than enough time. They have work to do.


	4. Far Beyond the Shrinking Skies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intended listening: [Portishead - "Half Day Closing"](https://youtu.be/OL0lIIGUwhs)

It is almost funny, how insistently Udina has been pushing the idea that, at least for him, this is all about his (albeit unambiguously self-centered) dream of furthering humanity, that Shepard’s new status as the first human Spectre would have been impossible without the aid of a quarian.

And now the Normandy, an Alliance vessel, is home to not only the young quarian pilgrim who single handedly proved Saren’s guilt, but also a former C-Sec turian and a krogan mercenary.

Shepard, herself, has no issue with this. She firmly believes that humanity isn’t in this alone, and in fact often agrees with the other races that her own kind really does need to take a backseat from time to time, having already expanded so quickly as the newcomers that they are.

But she can’t help but laugh about it, about how when all is said and done, what’s come is pretty much the opposite of what Udina really wants.

They are supposed to be on their way to look for an asari archaeologist, as well, but first Shepard needs to deal with the one aspect of this whole scenario she can find no humor in at all: Anderson.

The rest of the crew has been ordered back to the Normandy, with Pressly in charge as the newly designated XO.

She knew she wanted to command a ship someday, knew she wanted to be like Captain Anderson someday. She just never imagined it would go down like this, that he would practically have to be forced into retirement for her to get there.

“I told you, Shepard, it’s for the best,” Anderson reassures her. They are sitting together in the darkest corner of the very back of a bar in the lower wards, lower even than Chora’s Den. It’s a dismal little dive, exactly what they needed.

“Bullshit,” she hisses. “This is _bullshit._ Who the fuck does Udina think he is?”

“A pain in the ass,” Anderson laughs softly. “But a pain in the ass with authority, unfortunately.”

“Fuck,” she sighs. “How the hell can we even blame the rest of the galaxy for not trusting humanity when _that_ is what represents us?”

“Hell if I know,” he shakes his head. He isn’t okay with this, not really, but he knows it’s out of his hands and he trusts the Normandy in Shepard’s.

“I bet you could take him,” Shepard smiles.

If someone had told her a year ago that one day she would be sharing drinks with one of her heroes, without any formalities, casually talking like friends (or even family) after having taken over his command, while fantasizing together about causing physical harm to the human ambassador…

It’s been a strange few days, that’s for damn sure.

“I know I could,” Anderson chuckles. “But that would be unprofessional, of course. Commander.”

Like spending time with a father. It feels just the same. Or so she imagines.

“Aye, aye, sir,” Shepard replies sardonically. “It’s nice to dream, though…”

“That it is, Shepard,” he agrees with a grin. “That it truly is.”

This isn’t for Udina. He isn’t on their side, he’s just another fucking single-minded politician whose dreams would leave his own people choking if he were ever to gain enough real power. He won’t pave their way.

This is for Anderson, who understands what’s at stake, who knows what he wants and how to get it done. Anderson’s an old soldier, tried and tested, and Shepard knows where her allegiance lies.

Udina scolded her for being a human long before she was a Spectre, despite how hard he had personally fought for her to become the latter, and she only wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. But with Anderson she remembers that she is Alliance first, and the mission comes before any political agenda.

She knows what she wants, she knows what needs to be done.

“I’ll check in with you,” she tells him. “I don’t give a fuck that I don’t officially report to you anymore. I’ll keep you updated on the mission. You deserve that much.”

It will also simply be nice to keep getting together like this, not to lose each other to all of this political nonsense. Both of them think it, but neither says it out loud.

“Well,” he says carefully, pausing to appropriately construct his thought, “I look forward to it.”

That wasn’t fantastic, but he isn’t sure what else there is to say. He does, and she understands.

This was always going to be an unconventional crew, no matter who it was made up of. Because both Anderson and Shepard were always going to be unconventional leaders.

“Get back to the Normandy, Shepard,” he adds after another brief pause. “And just do me a favor and pretend that’s a real order, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” she stands and salutes.

“Now, get out there and give ‘em hell,” he says. “Do that for me.”

“I will, Anderson,” she responds quickly. “You can count on it.”

She will make him proud. That’s almost as important to her as the mission itself, and she _will._

And that is all the motivation she needs.

***

“You’re really refusing a ceremony?” Joker asks her once they’re on their way to the Artemis Tau cluster. “You’d think it would be a bigger deal, you know.”

“We have bigger things to worry about than fucking pomp and circumstance,” Shepard sighs. “A ceremony will just take up time and resources I’m not willing to waste on a bullshit masturbatory press cycle. I get that this _is_ big deal for humanity and all, but that’s not why we’re here. Everyone who’s important knows what happened, there’s no reason to pat myself on the back about it for the rest of the galaxy to watch. Besides, there’s probably no avoiding it, anyway. All the bystanders I saw looking over, there’s got to be actual footage hitting the vids by now whether I like it or not. Having a real ceremony will only make it worse.”

(Little does she know that over the next solar week, a young marine from Escondido, California, will be captivated by watching those exact vids and she will become his hero for the next three years, after which point they will become best friends. And little does she know that when that time comes, this hell will feel like the golden days she would give anything to have again.)

“You might be the only person I’ve ever met who could make being showered in accolades for a landmark achievement sound like a bad thing, Commander,” Joker notes with a smirk, which she easily returns.

“This isn’t even a show of good faith, Joker, we both know that,” she sighs. “This is a job needing to be done and needing someone who’s willing to do it without upsetting the balance too far. It looks good for us, I guess, but that’s not what matters. What matters is stopping Saren before it’s too late, and hopefully getting fucking _anyone_ to believe me about the reality of the Reaper threat.”

“We believe you, if that helps,” Joker replies. “All of us. We’re behind you and ready for anything, ma’am.”

“You can drop the formalities,” she smiles, sounding just like Anderson. “Shepard will do.”

“Alright, Shepard,” he says, and he is surprised by how natural it is.

There is something about this woman that puts the whole crew at ease, while simultaneously inspiring them to go to hell and back for her if the need should ever arise.

Much like Anderson, she is far from an ordinary CO, and everyone feels it.

“I should probably make some rounds,” she thinks to herself aloud. “See how everyone’s settling in.”

“Oh, you mean all the aliens now serving with humanity’s finest?” Joker laughs, and he sees Shepard’s scowl fast enough. “Oh no, don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a problem with it. But I bet you gave Ambassador Udina a fucking heart attack, making such a breakthrough for humanity and then bringing in your new squad.”

“Oh, I have no doubt,” Shepard chuckles. “But Udina’s a bastard, and these are good people.”

“Yeah, he is,” Joker agrees. “And if you say they’re good, they’re good. That’s all I need.”

“Glad to hear it,” she nods, and that is when she turns around to make those aforementioned rounds.

A crew that shares her goals and beliefs, that’s what’s most important.

Life has to go on after this shakeup, and time is not on their side.


	5. Hold Me, Tell Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intended listening: [Faunts - "Instantly Loved"](https://youtu.be/gOlsR5c0P3s)
> 
> This chapter is for [the_open_future](http://archiveofourown.org/users/the_open_future)

“I’ve wasted enough of your time for now, Shepard,” Kaidan says, and she can’t help but laugh.

They are sitting together in the mess, taking a moment just to catch up. He doesn’t seem to have much to discuss, though, which is fine, but it’s the way he says it…

He’s slowly but surely dropping “Commander” when he speaks to her, though. She likes that.

“You always say that,” she tells him. “What makes you think you’re wasting my time, Kaidan?”

But it was only the day before that he’d actually told her a little bit about Brain Camp and Rahna. It wasn’t much, he didn’t even touch on what Vyrnnus did or what he did to Vyrnnus, but all the same he’d told her more about himself than he can remember ever telling nearly anyone. She knows him almost as well as his parents at this point.

He’d asked her if she makes a habit of getting so personal with everybody. He’d honestly expected her to say yes, given the way he’s seen her interact with the rest of the crew. But no, it would seem that he is special. He likes that.

They can speak freely with each other, both of them. There is a mutual trust, an understanding.

From their very first conversation. It all changed in an instant.

“I…” Kaidan looks flustered. “Sorry, with the mission…everything at stake…”

“Here’s hoping our new Prothean expert will be able to move things along,” Shepard says, trying to sound reassuring.

She almost reaches across the table for his hand. She’s never wanted to simply hold someone’s hand before. She stops herself before she makes the move, but it’s a strange feeling.

So innocent, so sweet, so…so nice. It would be so nice. She doesn’t know how to process this.

It has occurred to her that she’s a Spectre now, that she could claim that as permission to defy those regs Kaidan has begun memorizing by the book in his downtime. She doesn’t know if it’s okay to play that card for _this,_ though, no matter how much she wants to.

It’s already been a whirlwind, this whole ordeal. She checks in with Anderson as often as she can, as promised, but so much has already happened.

She’s not sure she’s strong enough for this. But it helps to know who she has beside her.

He makes her feel…

“Talk to me, Kaidan,” Shepard smiles. They have some time before they reach Edolus, taking a brief detour to look into Rear Admiral Kahoku’s missing team.

She’d never even met him before, Kaidan had asked. He’d wondered if perhaps they’d crossed paths on Elysium, but the answer was no. She and Kahoku were complete strangers, but she listened to his concerns and offered her help, and he trusted her.

He doesn’t know what it is about her, but…

It’s so nice how they came along for the job and in turn found each other.

She’d smiled at him so beautifully when she’d playfully called him a romantic. Everyone’s talking about it, too, that hasn’t gotten past either of them. Scuttlebutt hasn’t taken long at all to attach to this…whatever this is between them.

This connection which has made them both feel as though they could be instantly accepted, instantly wanted…perhaps even (although both of them are yet so afraid to think it) _loved._

It’s too early for that, they each keep reminding themselves. But it has already crossed both of their minds many times all the same.

“Okay, Shepard,” he smiles easily. “What do you want to talk about?”

She doesn’t want to ask him any more about Brain Camp, at least not yet. She could see him struggle to talk about it—she could see the trauma, and it made her think of Akuze or even Mindoir. She’s more than willing to listen, but at his own pace. Although she was especially struck by his reply to her joke about how a group of teenagers would spend their time, that he doesn’t take a casual approach to sex. She isn’t questioning that, either, but aside from her slight worry over their apparently being polar opposites on the subject, she can clearly see that he thinks of _her_ that way. Everyone can see that. And that must mean something extraordinary.

She isn’t sure she’s strong enough for this. For these unfamiliar feelings. It scares her more than the mission to a point; at least she knows how to be a soldier, knows how to charge into the field to face down death itself. Handling romantic attraction, on the other hand…

But it’s nice. Somehow, this is nice.

“I…I don’t know,” she falters. “Ah, tell me…tell me…”

She wants to ask about how shy and nervous he is, although she fully recognizes how counterintuitive that is. She and Ashley have talked about breaking him out of his shell, how much they both long to see that happen. Ashley has made it no secret that she knows it’s deeper for Shepard than it is for her, but that’s also not exactly the conversation she’s looking for.

“Tell me more about _you,_ Kaidan,” she tries. “Not your training, not your career, just…you.”

“I’m not sure I’m that interesting, Commander,” he laughs, and he catches the way her eyes shift when he uses her title. They always seem to widen when he calls her by name, though. The same way his do when she uses his.

He has no idea that she’s been teasing the idea of asking him to call her by her first name. He has no idea that this would make him the first person to casually use it—the first person she’d _want_ using it—since Mindoir.

He doesn’t know that while _no one_ calls her by any name but Shepard, even that is beginning to feel too formal with him. It hasn’t been that long since they first met, and yet…

It’s so nice how they’ve found each other.

“Umm, _Shepard,”_ he corrects himself with a smirk, and that works for now. “I grew up in Vancouver. Dad’s military, like I said, and Mom’s a cosmologist. Add in the biotics, and life in space on an Alliance ship was pretty much inevitable.”

 _“Bashert,”_ Shepard muses with a smile, and Kaidan predictably gives her a perplexed look.

She doesn’t know exactly how to explain herself, however. She hadn’t intended to say it, hadn’t even remembered ever hearing it until she did.

“It means ‘destiny’…I think,” she says nervously. “I know I’ve heard my mother say it, but I…shit, I’m sorry. As you were saying…”

(Little does she know that this memory is far more appropriate than she could guess. While she is correct that the word itself, in Yiddish, does in fact mean “destiny,” she has no idea that it is most commonly used in the context of that destiny referring to finding one’s soulmate.)

He doesn’t push her, but god knows he wants to. He is even more sure now that she was completely full of shit when she told him she’s moved past losing her family, but he still believes that if she isn’t able to talk about it then it isn’t his place to ask.

They look at each other briefly, neither of them sure what to say next. He wants to ask and she almost wants to answer, but he doubts she can and he is absolutely right.

Not yet, at least. She is starting to believe that she could someday, with him.

He’s found her but she’s not strong enough for _that._ Not right now.

For a fleeting second she wonders if it really is too soon to be sure that this is love. She’s never been in love before, and that makes it so much more confusing. She thinks she is now, though, for as difficult to wrap her head around as that may be.

It was all but instantly, how quickly this has developed.

And the way he looks at her when she finds that one tiny scrap of memory of her mother, the affection and sympathy she sees…she wonders if he might feel just the same.

If only their timing was better.

Another thing she can’t tell him, even if she’s sure. Not yet, at least. Not right now.

She wants to tell him, to tell him that he is loved. And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t long to hear it in return.

It strikes him that he thinks he might love her. And that he thinks it might even be mutual. That he can be loved so soon, at any time. That he can offer his own love in such an instant. He can’t tell her, though. There are regs, and a mission so much bigger than themselves.

He wishes he could hold her, that he could do something to soothe the sorrow in her eyes.

Oh, how carefully he has watched those eyes.

He’ll simply have to keep talking. Right now, it’s the best he can do.

“Only child, never had too many friends,” he continues. It’s strangely easy to be so honest with her. He doesn’t tend to like talking about himself at all, but he wants to know her and he genuinely wants her to know him in turn. “Biotics aside, I was always a little… _different.”_

“Mental health?” Shepard hopes she isn’t crossing any lines, isn’t prying too far. She already knows, though. She can sense it, the same way he could sense it in her the moment they net.

“That obvious?” Kaidan laughs quietly.

“No,” she assures him. “We can always spot our own, though, can’t we?”

“Yeah,” he answers with a smile. “Yeah, we can. Got a few diagnoses forced on me after Brain Camp. Mom and Dad knew it’d been a…ah, a difficult experience. It’s mostly unrelated, though.”

He struggles to say the words somehow. The way he’d holed up after BAaT was the biggest factor in his parents wanting him to talk to a professional, and they were right in more ways than one. He’s satisfied with his own progress with his post-traumatic stress. His was probably fairly mild in comparison to some of his classmates’ and the agoraphobia didn’t last long enough to impact his life in the long term. It’s “autistic” he doesn’t know how to express, though. The words “anxiety” and “depression,” too, linger on his tongue but won’t come forward.

“Bipolar, although I’ve never been diagnosed,” she admits, surprising herself. “Complex post-traumatic stress disorder, too, I’m sure. But, umm, don’t tell anyone. I don’t think _I’ve_ ever told anyone. I don’t think I’ve ever said that out loud.”

He stops himself from telling her he knows. Because he does, even if it doesn’t make any sense for him to.

So much he wants to tell her.

He can’t yet elaborate on all that happened at BAaT, either, how it ended and how he spent the next few years isolating back home.

It’ll come, though. Somehow he knows that, too.

“That all has to be really rough with the migraines, though, huh,” she adds, sadness lacing her tone. “I can’t imagine…”

“I’ve got it well enough under control by now that they don’t typically make the headaches much worse,” he says as though he is trying to make _her_ feel better about his condition. “Don’t worry.”

It astounds her that he so often calls them headaches. She’s read up on migraines since she started getting to know him, and while it’s hard to grasp when she’s never gone through it, they sound horrifying. She’s had headaches, but she knows that she has never dealt with anything so painful, so sensitive, so downright debilitating.

She doesn’t understand it.

He is so strong.

She is so grateful she’s found him.

“Friends, though,” she says uncertainly. “It’s hard to imagine you struggling there.”

“Have you met me, Shepard?” Kaidan snickers at himself. “And it was harder when I was younger. Kids. You know.”

He does not confess that he was once much more erratic in regulating his emotions, once had something of a temper. He does not confess to her that he was reclusive, that he didn’t understand his peers and they didn’t understand him, and how lonely that could be. He does confess to her that he almost preferred it at the same time, that the very idea of socializing could be too overwhelming to handle. He does not confess to her how he could shut down, how he could stop speaking for days when his mood dropped or his mind got away from him in any capacity.

He does not confess to her that she is the first real friend he’s made since BAaT, and that the friends he’d had there were the first he had ever made at all.

“I’ve never been great at it, either,” she offers with a soft smile. It’s intended to be comforting, and she lets the necessary addendum of “as far as I can remember” remain unsaid. She could have had friends on Mindoir, she supposes, but she remembers so little of that life and part of her hopes to keep it that way. The other part longs to find those memories of what she’s lost and hold onto to all she can of them, show them the love and respect she is sure they deserve. But she is too afraid to know for sure all she’s missing. She is too afraid to have to mourn even more than she does as she is.

“It’s, umm…it can be hard to let people in,” she says awkwardly. Until Anderson, that is. And then the rest of this crew, including Kaidan.

 _Especially_ Kaidan.

“You know?”

He only nods, his familiarity clear.

She does not confess to him that she’s intentionally avoided letting anyone get close, frequently using sex as an escape while actively running from the threat of intimacy. She suspects those two concepts are not separate for him, though, and she doesn’t know how to explain that for her there is no relation. She does not believe that he will judge her, but she finds herself unable to form the words, unable to express what she is thinking.

Neither does she confess that she imagines sex with him actually would be intimate. Neither does she confess that she imagines this _a lot._

“You said you made friends at Brain Camp, though, yeah?” Shepard goes on before she can stop herself.

He grins, though. There is something so endearing about her wanting this badly to keep talking to him, and somehow even moreso how she refers to it as Brain Camp, too. He isn’t used to telling his COs much about it at all to begin with, but for her to speak on it so casually…

She was never going to be just another CO, though, he knows that.

She is so much more. And she makes him feel like so much more in turn.

He wrings his hands beneath the table, not wanting to cross any lines. He wants to touch her, to tell her all he’s thinking.

She’s special, god knows, and he felt it instantly.

“Yeah, I did,” he replies. “That little circle I mentioned, we’d always sit around and bull and play games before lights out. We were all each other had, and it was…it was nice to have that, at least, with everything else.”

“I’m sorry, Kaidan, you don’t have to talk about it,” she says softly. “Believe me, I understand keeping past lives buried.”

“It’s not that, Shepard, it’s just…” He sighs and follows with a chuckle. “Maybe it is a bit, I don’t know. It was a long time ago and I’ve had life go on since. It wasn’t always easy, but I haven’t made it this far by dwelling _or_ by forgetting.”

“That’s admirable, Kaidan,” she tells him sincerely. “Maybe someday you’ll have to teach me all your secrets.”

“Maybe I’d like that,” he says, realizing only after he does how flirtatious his tone is.

And oh, how her face lights up at that.

“No romantic partners, either?” She doubts she should have asked that, especially when she’s sure she didn’t have to. “Sorry, that was inappropriate. I didn’t mean to—”

“Is it?” He asks, genuinely trying to make sure he’s been reading her correctly. “Inappropriate, I mean. I got the impression we’ve been, umm, getting to know each other. You know, as…as people.”

“Yeah, we are,” she says, relieved.

“No, though, not really,” he answers her question. “I, ah, cared about Rahna, yeah. After that, though, nothing’s really worked out. But I’ve never worried about it much, either. You?”

“Nothing romantic,” she admits. “I’ve been…around, but no…no attachments.”

“So, umm, when did you know you’re not straight?” He’d actually been legitimately wanting to ask her that, if for no other reason than to further express how much common ground they share.

“Not sure,” she laughs. “I just did. How about you?”

“You figured that one out, too, huh?” He laughs, as well. He knew she would, though.

It’s so nice how they’ve found each other this way.

“Sure did,” she says with a smirk.

“I just did, too, yeah.” He shrugs slightly, and it feels good to have shared that. He likes bonding with her, likes simply being around her.

They would both be content to spend all their time like this, learning more and more about each other.

“Fifteen minutes to Edolus, Commander,” Joker announces, and that pulls them back into the reason they’re here together in the first place.

“Grab your gear, Kaidan, you’re with me,” Shepard shifts into her most authoritative voice, bringing herself back to the job. “I’ll go get Ash and you’ll meet us at the Mako. We’ve got a team to find.”

And with that, she gets up and heads to the elevator, and he doesn’t even try to stop himself from watching her walk away.

It’s so nice, finding this so unexpectedly. So nice…

It’ll be nice if they can find Kahoku’s unit, too. All this chaos they’ve been plunged headfirst into, they could use a win like that right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love these bisexuals!!!!!
> 
> I also definitely had a migraine while writing the part about migraines, oops. But seriously, bless Kaidan for these feels.
> 
> Also, [here](http://becauseanders.tumblr.com/post/163949566168/kaidan-alenko-is-autistic) is my autistic Kaidan headcanon in detail, because this is _very_ important to me.


	6. Like a House Falling in the Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intended listening: [Radiohead - "Where I End and You Begin"](https://youtu.be/-3ZUQMBD5yI)
> 
> CW for dissociation

“Take the damn wheel,” Kaidan shouts at Ashley, trying to concentrate on repairing the damage to the Mako’s hull. This isn’t his command and he is not usually so abrasive, but this is not a usual scenario.

They followed Rear Admiral Kahoku’s leads to Edolus, and as soon as they saw the thresher maw, it was all over for Shepard.

She is often almost unnervingly skilled at keeping her C-PTSD well hidden in the presence of others, but they were blindsided and nothing could have prevented the intense panic attack that has led Kaidan to take control and strip her of her driving privileges.

It’s funny how terrible a driver she is under average circumstances. There is nothing funny about this.

Ashley is as careful as she can be in trying to switch places with Shepard to take over control of the Mako, but there is only so gentle she can be when Shepard appears to be frozen in place, silently and unintentionally refusing to relinquish her seat.

Shepard screams at Ashley’s touch, however, and no one knows what the hell they’re supposed to do, especially while they are still within range of the thresher maw which is actively attacking.

Kaidan runs his omni-tool over his quick omni-gel patch over and determines it’s good enough for the time being, and he takes it upon himself to try to get Shepard to move.

Ashley is swerving them wildly, but she is doing her best, driving from over Shepard’s shoulder.

“Shepard,” Kaidan calls for her, and she does not react. “Shepard, look at me…please.”

But she is not on Edolus, not at all.

Kaidan knows a little about Akuze, as does everyone. But he yet only knows what he heard about in the vids, none of the details. He cannot even imagine what she went through there and he cannot even try to, public information on the event is so scarce.

Kaidan already hates the idea of getting out of this and her pretending it never happened.

Because somehow he already knows that is exactly what is going to come next.

And right now, she can’t come down. She can hardly see herself at all, through the gap in between her head and clouds, but _she cannot come down._

She can’t breathe. She might as well drive straight into the damn beast before them, as it is going to eat them all alive whether she wants it or not.

And this is too perfect, too familiar.

If they survive this, she will need to get to the bottom of it, to figure out if this means anything. She doesn’t know if this means there was any sort of cover-up at Akuze, but if it does…there’ll be no more lies. She and Kahoku will make sure of that.

If they survive this.

“Shepard,” Kaidan is begging to get through to her. She can hear him, but it’s distant. She can see him, but it’s out of focus.

This whole scene is spinning around her, moving on without her. She ends before it begins. She can watch but not take part.

The world around her changes color, the sky crashes down on her.

She feels so alone.

But she’s truly left Kaidan and Ashley alone in checking out like this, and they are the ones left to pick up the pieces.

Ashley skids hard, barely maintaining control of the Mako, and Kaidan has to brace himself to avoid being shoved into the door but Shepard does not budge.

“Oh god,” Ashley sighs in preparation for what she is about to do. She does not want to rattle Shepard any further, but all she’s doing right now is running them around in circles, and she’s doing a shit job of even that from her current position. “Skipper, I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.”

Ashley jumps into the front seat, forcing Shepard out of her way, and she is finally able to take full control of both the vehicle and its weapons.

Shepard hears herself shriek, muffled as her own voice may be to her, but she doesn’t care. She isn’t there. She’s left them alone. Later she’ll be sorry for letting them roam on their own like this, dodging thresher maw acid which seems to turn the whole sky green, but right now there is nothing she can do.

It is Kaidan into whom Shepard gracelessly crashes once Ashley pushes her out of the way, and he goes against his better judgment by pulling her in closer to him. For a split second he goes so far as to put his arm around her, perhaps to ground her to something real, to comfort her. As soon as he catches himself, however, he takes his arm back and holds it rigidly at his side.

Ashley fires the cannon and Kaidan sees the thresher recoil. It’s been hit. This just became a significantly fairer fight.

They pass by that fucking distress beacon in yet another lap, an “X” to mark the place of this godforsaken death trap, and Kaidan feels his heart skip a beat. It’s too convenient, for an Alliance team to be drawn in and wiped out entirely by a thresher maw for the second time in six years. This doesn’t sit right with him, Shepard’s post-traumatic spiral notwithstanding.

“Dammit, what the hell do we do?” Ashley’s voice is strained, she sounds like she’s ready to snap.

She’s terrified for Shepard. It isn’t like her to break in the field like this, but no one is faulting her for it now. Coming head to head with a thresher maw by surprise is not an event she likely ever expected to happen again, and this second surprise means there was also no chance to prepare for it.

If she _could_ ever have prepared for it anyway.

“We keep this to ourselves, that’s what the hell we do,” Kaidan replies, and Ashley nods.

From somewhere far, far away, it seems, Shepard hears this exchange, and she is vaguely grateful for it.

“This is between us, LT,” Ashley agrees. “My lips are sealed.”

“Hey, Shepard,” Kaidan tries again. Her eyes have tensed shut, her brow is furrowed, her chest is heaving uncontrollably, her whole body is shaking.

Kaidan wants nothing more than to bridge the gap between where she ends and he begins, to bring her back down to them.

(Years later, they’ll have something of a trick for occasions such as these, as they will grow happen more often. Years later, he will always be ready and waiting to make her confirm that she knows who and where she is, to ask her for her name, location, year, and whatever information might be relevant to make sure her mind and body are in the same place. Even then it won’t always help, but it will be good to have an easy solution at hand. Unfortunately, no one present can come up with such a plan in this moment, and it is therefore not yet of any help to them.)

She shakes her head at the sound of her name. He isn’t sure if she’s aware of it (she isn’t), but he breathes a sigh of relief over getting _any_ reaction from her at all.

She doesn’t speak, however. She can’t. She is too disconnected, too far outside herself.

She can’t come down. She can watch but she can’t take part.

“Take that, you son of a bitch!” Ashley exclaims after a series of direct hits from the Mako’s gun, which she punctuates with another successful blast of the cannon.

And that’s it. It’s dead. They’ve done it.

“Wait, there’s…” Ashley spots the body by the distress beacon. Uniformed, Alliance. All the confirmation they need that this truly was Kahoku’s squad.

“I’ll stay with her,” Kaidan says, and Ashley exits the Mako to investigate.

She isn’t long, only taking down the name and service number listed on the tags. She returns to the Mako to find that Shepard isn’t looking any better, and so they decide they’ll simply have to wait her out.

It is terribly awkward, the three of them sitting together in what would be an uncomfortable silence were it not for the harsh sounds of Shepard’s panic.

“It’s gone, Skipper,” Ashley whispers. “You’re safe.”

Kaidan is almost surprised at how gentle Ashley is in this moment, how effortlessly she tends to Shepard now that the literal life or death crisis is over and they can give their full attention to her.

He is _almost_ surprised, but it is also entirely natural. He can see the protective sister who is much like a mother to her own. He sees the devoted, caring soul he’d already known she has.

And he sees the way Ashley takes the lead for him, sees that she understands why he is so apprehensive to move in any closer, himself.

The thresher maw is gone, but Shepard isn’t, and neither is her history. And it’s eating her alive.

It’s _always_ eating her alive, but this is the first time in a long time it’s taken over this way. Usually she buries it. Today it’s buried her.

But they need her there. They need her to come back. Because they aren’t calling for a pickup as long as she looks like this. They aren’t going to do that to her.

They can wait for the waves to part, they can wait to bridge the gap. They can wait for her to come down.

They can wait for this to end and for her to begin again.

“Hey, Skipper… _Shepard,”_ Ashley says softly. “We need to go to the Citadel, okay? Admiral Kahoku deserves to know what we found.”

Shepard nods at that. Ashley’s voice has become a little bit closer, although her ears continue ringing.

“Shepard?” Kaidan whispers.

“What did…what did we find?” Shepard is hoarse and nowhere near calm. Kaidan runs a quick scan and her heart rate is about what he anticipated, but that doesn’t mean he likes it.

She is not quite aware enough of herself to be as mortified as she will shortly, but she already feels sick from the sensation of coming back down, of falling back into the present. Her whole body is heavy, her limbs locked and her lungs on fire.

“Let’s get you back to the Normandy, Shepard,” Kaidan suggests. “We can talk about it after. _We_ can. Just the three of us, alright?”

She is slowly beginning to process what they’re saying, to recognize her surroundings.

They’re on Edolus, she recalls. They went to Edolus for Rear Admiral Kahoku, and they were lured into a…

Oh. Right.

Fuck.

“Oh god,” she mumbles, piecing together all that’s just happened.

It feels like a dream, but she knows better. The way Kaidan and Ashley are so cautiously doting over her like this, it can only mean this was all real.

“Fuck,” she sighs. “Were there any…are there any survivors?”

She doesn’t know why she asks.

Kaidan and Ashley are both so concerned at the revelation that she doesn’t recall it, herself.

Neither ask how much of this excursion she remembers. Neither are sure how much they want her to remember.

“Just us, Shepard,” Ashley says lightly. This is intended as reassurance, but it falls completely flat.

She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there for any of it. She saw the thresher maw and left them alone, and all she has to put anything of what occurred in between in order is notifications of vehicle damage and Ashley’s place in the driver’s seat. She doesn’t remember driving, she doesn’t remember Ashley taking over. She doesn’t remember fighting. She supposes it’s a good thing they won.

She is starting to come down.

She is crashing down.

“Kaidan, Ash, I…I…”

“It’s just us, Shepard,” Kaidan tells her. “No judgments here. Commander.”

He stresses her title in a way she has otherwise grown to hate hearing in his voice, but it is exactly what she needs. It emphasizes that he still respects her as his CO, that this hasn’t changed anything about how they view her as a leader.

“That’s right, ma’am,” Ashley takes her cue. “Ready for the next step, on your order.”

“We need to go to the Citadel,” Shepard says. She thinks she heard Ashley mention that but she isn’t sure. No one speaks up either way. “Find Kahoku, find…tell him…dammit.”

She can’t put into words how badly this has her head spinning. This is the second time in six years she’s been lured into a thresher nest. She’d always believed the first time to have been a tragic accident, but with this she cannot help but wonder if it was somehow deliberate. The biggest difference is simply that she missed full brunt of the the massacre this time.

“Just breathe, Shepard,” Kaidan follows. “Just…”

Her head’s out of the clouds. She’s down there with them now.

She can mostly control her own mind and body again. Mostly. Enough to pretend.

She doesn’t know how long it’s been since anyone actually saw her like this. If anyone has even seen her like this. It happens, but it happens behind closed doors, where it won’t fall on anyone else.

But if this had to happen, she could never have asked for anyone better to have it happen with.

Once she is deemed presentable, they make the call for pickup, and they ready themselves to head to the Citadel to deliver the bad news.

And the three of them will never speak on this again.


	7. But Will the Morning Headlines Even Say That It’s a Shame?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intended listening: [The Offspring - "Jennifer Lost the War"](https://youtu.be/0zCC0h1NdPg)
> 
> CW for implied/referenced emotional, physical, and sexual abuse, mostly specifically in reference to Mindoir and Akuze, as well as self harming behavior

Shepard has been beckoned back to the docking bay, asked to assist with a broken young woman with a gun who is a clear danger to herself.

“She says she’s from Mindoir.”

Shepard doesn’t know how she can help her, but she knows she cannot walk away.

“Kaidan, Ash…” Shepard quietly looks to those she brought with her. “I have to…I have to see to something on the docks. You don’t have to come with, but…”

She is rattled by this, whatever it is. No way they won’t be following her.

This was supposed to be a simple supply run. She was going to visit Spectre requisitions, hit a few markets around the wards, maybe grab a drink with Anderson. And then they were going to be on their way after what was meant to be an entirely uneventful visit to the Citadel.

Instead, so far she has punched a reporter and is now apparently about to try to talk a fellow Mindoir survivor down from the proverbial ledge.

And they’ve barely been here five minutes.

The galaxy’s a busy place.

After the devastation of finding Kahoku’s body and failing to recover his team, she’s already been on edge. But she can’t walk away from this. Of course she can’t.

She does notice Kaidan and Ashley both eagerly follow her into the elevator, and she is grateful.

She stops to introduce herself to Lieutenant Girard, who gives her a sedative for the woman she is about to confront. She’s going to have to put a good word for him in with _someone_ somewhere down the line, too, if she can. She commends him for his concern, for being so moved to help.

Kaidan bites the inside of his cheeks to avoid smiling, amused despite the situation at large by how amazed she sounds by Girard’s kindness and how oblivious she is to the fact that it is _exactly_ what she would do in his shoes. He has seen time and again by now how she views herself and god knows how it breaks his heart, but she…

And she is walking right into the fire now, as well, helping a stranger as she always does and for as triggering as this could be, and she is visibly anxious.

Shepard approaches her fellow colonist, heart tight in her chest at the sight of her. She does not flinch when a gun is drawn on her. This isn’t about her.

This girl was only six years old. But at least someone cares at all.

“My name is Shepard,” she starts gently. As usual she says Shepard and only Shepard, which is typically unnoteworthy but somehow feels important in this moment. “Lieutenant Girard sent me to talk to you. What’s your name?”

“Animals don’t get names.” This woman speaks quickly, fearfully. “The masters put their symbols on her, hot metal all over her back. She screams when they do it.”

Shepard swallows hard, tries her best to find her resolve.

“You’re not an animal,” Shepard tries so hard to break through. “Your parents, what did they call you? Do you remember them?”

 _“She_ remembers a lot of things,” she snaps. It won’t be easy to show her that she’s safe now, Shepard can see. “Talitha. They called her that. She…she doesn’t remember the rest. Leave her alone!”

Talitha waves her gun around without regard for Shepard, but Shepard doesn’t care. This is about Talitha’s escape and all the hell she has endured, and now the fallout. This isn’t about Shepard.

She just needs to talk her down, to make sure she stays safe. Girard can take it from there, can perhaps get Talitha help. Take her somewhere far away, somewhere her sorrows will count and she can find herself again. Somewhere they will care, where they will help her take this burden.

Not that Shepard can imagine such a place is genuinely possible. But she can dream for Talitha.

This is about Talitha, this broken shell Shepard recognizes all too well for a stranger. She was only six years old, much younger than even Shepard was when they became just headlines. When they lost the war that had become of their home.

Shepard contemplates taking a step but Talitha doesn’t seem ready. So instead she will stay where she is, she will take it slow.

She can do this. She can find her.

She takes a deep breath, carefully as she can.

She asks Talitha about her escape, about the raid itself, about her family.

She listens to Talitha’s tales of watching her parents burn, of trying to help her captors. She calls herself dirty, tells Shepard that she deserves this. She needs to blame herself, to pinpoint what she’s done, how much she must have really sinned.

“She doesn’t want it to be real,” Talitha says. 

This is so familiar, but not familiar at all. Different outcomes, sure, but they went through the same thing and neither of them came out at all intact.

They also disconnect from it much differently, it appears.

“Why are _you_ alive?” Talitha shouts when Shepard reveals to her that she was there, too. “Why aren’t you—why aren’t you like her? _Broken…”_

“Who says I’m not,” Shepard deadpans in response. 

She can’t compare herself to Talitha, though, she knows. They’ve both lost, they’ve wondered what they’d done. They both hold their sorrows, they were both broken by falling as unexpected soldiers when their home became an active war zone, they’ve both found themselves burned and raped in the aftermath.

But for Talitha it was her captors, retraumatizing her daily, keeping her under their control, constantly beating her down. For Shepard, on the other hand, it is only Shepard. She has maintained her own free will since the raid, she cannot blame anyone but herself for how she’s been handled ever since.

Talitha deserves better. It is Shepard who has really sinned.

Shepard thinks of trying to explain that she’s a biotic, that her survival comes completely as a result of her abilities manifesting under pressure, as a result of her mindlessly and largely accidentally killing raiders before they could get to her. But she can’t find the right words, doesn’t believe this will help.

(And she cannot share with Talitha the horror of hearing her parents die trying to protect her, or of losing her younger siblings while trying so hard to keep them safe, because she does not remember it, herself. Much like Talitha, her mind locks so many of these memories away. Much like Talitha, she doesn’t remember the rest.)

Little Miss Mindoir 2170, that’s Shepard. The one who got away as close to on her own as anyone could. The only one she knows of, the only one she has ever heard of who was not killed or captured.

For a moment, she has nothing to say.

Talitha meets her eyes, though, and they recognize each other. Not from their lives before; no, even for as spotty as their memories are, they more than likely had never met as children. But they recognize the experience, the _damage._

“Take this,” Shepard offers the sedative at last. “This will make you sleep.”

Talitha wants to know if she’ll have good dreams, and Shepard cannot bring herself not to lie.

“Shepard…” Kaidan and Ashley start in unison once she’s seen to it that Talitha will be taken care of.

Neither of them know what to say. They are not used to seeing their commander so shaken. She looks like she’s ready to break right there in front of them, and it takes her an uncomfortable moment to be able to speak to them again.

“If there’s anything you need here…you can take an hour,” she tells them. “I…I’ve got to get back to the Normandy. Just report back as soon as you can. Report to Pressly. I need…I need some…”

She only needs some time.

“Right behind you, ma’am,” Ashley speaks for them both. She decides on an air of professionalism, completely unsure of how she is supposed to handle this. Kaidan is as lost as she is, but he remains silent.

“Umm, thanks,” Shepard manages, obviously relieved to not have to hang around, to be able to get away from the Citadel for the time being.

She will remember Lieutenant Girard, though, and she will think of him often. She will, in fact, come to thoroughly regret not finding a way to keep in contact. He is everything an Alliance marine should be, and she will at least be sure to mention this to Anderson and she sincerely hopes he does well in all of his future endeavors.

But she heads straight to her cabin when they cross through the Normandy’s airlock, leaving Kaidan and Ashley to themselves. Shepard hides and wishes she knew how to let anyone in. She is so alone, behind closed doors where she must desperately work to calm herself down. 

Kaidan and Ashley want to talk to each other about it, but it is difficult to approach the subject even without Shepard present. 

“You should talk to her,” Ashley breaks the silence. “It’s…it’ll be for the best if it’s you.”

“What do I _say?”_ Kaidan asks, at a complete loss for anything. He doesn’t want to risk pushing her past what she can handle, somehow inadvertently making it worse.

He is not walking away, but when it comes to a subject so severe, so delicate, is it so wrong to be afraid?

“Hell if I know,” Ashley answers honestly. “I’ll be praying for her, but I’m not sure she wants to hear that.”

“I think she’s Jewish,” Kaidan slips, and he isn’t sure it’s his place to tell anyone else what gives him that impression. “So, umm, you know, she might actually appreciate it.”

Ashley decides that maybe she should ask sometime. Kaidan looks terribly conflicted, however, his eyes revealing the sensation of a line perhaps being crossed. She isn’t sure what to make of that, though, so she focuses her attention back to the situation before them.

“Can you imagine living through that, though?” Ashley shakes her head, staring at her own hands. “And then Akuze, I…”

Ashley cannot complete her thought, whatever it even may have been. She thinks of her parents, of her sisters. She cannot even begin to fathom how losing them like Shepard lost her family could feel, what that must do to a person.

She thinks of being the last of the 212 on Eden Prime, about being the sole survivor of a much smaller unit than Shepard’s on Akuze, and one that she was not personally charged with.

“Skipper’s got some resilience in her, that’s for damn sure,” Ashley follows uneasily. “If it isn’t God watching out for her, then I don’t even know.”

“I don’t, either,” Kaidan says quietly. He isn’t sure what he believes, if anything, but Ashley’s right that Shepard certainly makes a compelling argument for the existence of a higher power.

“You should talk to her, though,” Ashley tries again. “She trusts you, Kaidan, if there’s anyone who can help…if she needs it, well…”

Kaidan does not even get the opportunity to figure out what the hell to say to that before Shepard comes back out, holding her head high (despite how obvious it is to Kaidan that there is nothing genuine about this aggressive air of confidence with which she walks).

“Just got a message from Alliance Command,” she snaps at her present squad. “I’m telling Joker to set a course for the Newton System. Not sure what we’re in for, but be ready.”

And with that, she walks away towards the bridge, leaving neither Kaidan nor Ashley with anything left to say.

***

“I’m fine, _Kaidan,”_ Shepard stresses to him when he’s made it clear enough how worried he is.

She is nursing a mug of cold burnt coffee in the mess, anxiously awaiting their next stop, which is what has Kaidan so concerned.

They are on their way to Ontaram, she has revealed, following up on a lead about some missing scientists. And Admiral Hackett warned her that this might be tied to Akuze, and that’s why flying out straight from dealing with Talitha does not seem like a particularly good idea to him.

She tells herself it doesn’t matter. Akuze, Mindoir: it’s said and done. She’s seen it all before, her sorrows don’t mean anything. The brass wants her to deal with this, so deal with it she will.

She’s a soldier, she doesn’t need to know what she’s heading for. She has a job. She will do her job.

This is just another job, she silently repeats to herself. Just a soldier, just a job.

She’ll take it, and there is nothing else to say.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies professionally. “Ready for the next mission.”

“Oh come on, don’t ‘yes, ma’am’ me, Kaidan,” Shepard sighs. “I appreciate your concern, but…”

But there is no end to that sentence. She wasn’t thinking about it when she decided to head straight to this assignment so shortly after meeting Talitha, but Kaidan already understands her far too well.

She hates the idea of needing someone else to save her from herself, but she’ll be damned if that does not appear to be exactly what’s sitting across from her.

Kaidan does not think it’s so wrong to be afraid. They don’t have precise details about what they’re heading for, but they know more than enough that he is literally sitting on his hands to stop himself from reaching for hers.

There’s a war inside her, completely isolated from the war rapidly threatening to unfold around them between Saren and the Reapers.

And he won’t see her lose it.

“Shepard…” Kaidan meets her eyes, and she looks away. She takes a sip of her coffee instead, on the verge of shutting down.

She is a stupid girl, a dirty girl, like Talitha said. Talitha was wrong about herself, but Shepard still can’t shake the difference in autonomy. Twice over, it is seemingly miraculous that she did not end up lying silent in a morgue with the rest of the planet she was on. She hasn’t cared much for her own survival since, spiralling. All that she has sinned in the years she should never have had must justify what she went through back then. She asks herself constantly what she must have done; she no longers wonders what she’s done to deserve how much she’s hurt, however, but wonders what she has done to deserve seeing the other side.

She thinks again how much she hopes that Talitha can yet be saved, that the interference of Girard’s evident strong sense of morality will be able to help her.

Maybe Talitha won’t have really lost the war in the end. Maybe one day Shepard finally will.

“ETA ten minutes, Shepard,” Joker’s voice warns.

“Alright, Alenko, let’s get moving,” Shepard stands and assumes her role. 

There is no reason to be afraid of what they’re heading for. It’s in the past, it’s said and done. She’s fine. She’ll be fine.

***

She was only 16 when Mindoir was raided, and only 23 when she lost her team on Akuze.

And now here she is, only a little bit shy of 29, and she feels like such a fucking child.

Kaidan tried to talk to her after they got back to the ship. He had no idea what to say, but his eyes spoke volumes. He watched her go numb, watched her shove down every ounce of emotion that threatened to burst from her and decimate everything around them.

Kaidan was glad to get Corporal Toombs out of there, glad that Shepard was there to show him anyone really cares. Investigating was the right thing to do, he knows. But god does he wish it could have been anyone else but Shepard, or at least that it didn’t have to be _now._

And it’s for the best that Dr. Wayne is dead, that he isn’t walking away. It’s for the best she was the one to pull the trigger.

“Shepard, hey,” he stopped her on her way to her cabin, and she nearly let him.

“You’re dismissed, Lieutenant,” she said coldly. She didn’t actually want to push him, she wanted so badly to invite him in, to ask him to hold her.

Toombs asked her in the nightmares would stop, like Talitha had asked if she would have pleasant dreams.

Shepard knew the answer both times. And she knew how to answer for neither.

She checks her messages and starts preparing a schedule in lieu of allowing herself to cry on Kaidan’s shoulder. She has no doubt he’d welcome that, too.

But she’s a soldier, her sorrows don’t count at all.

It’s on to the next mission, even when she backs away from her desk and crashes into her bed, screaming into a pillow and repeatedly punching her own thighs.

Meanwhile, Kaidan and Ashley are again sharing a long, somber conversation about how much they really care for her.

Her family waits, this newfound family her crew has so quickly become.

All the mistakes she faults herself, these people will take her. All she has sinned, her soul does not remain unclaimed.

Across the Normandy, her family waits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so you know how the Offspring were once actually something of a legitimate punk band? Wild, I know.
> 
> Also I don't know why I remembered Talitha having been six years old since I now don't feel like I've heard that once in all my times rewatching those scenes on YouTube for reference while writing this chapter, but that detail had been one of the deciding factors in choosing the song I did and I therefore opted simply to keep it as is. Oh well.
> 
> I also really, really, really, really love Lieutenant Girard and seriously wish we ever got to see him again and am actually currently trying to find a way to work him into [my post-canon fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10478094/chapters/23118300)? Because yeah, he is A Good™.


	8. We Scream in Cathedrals, Why Can’t It Be Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intended listening: [Tori Amos - "i i e e e"](https://youtu.be/KXI-_An3yFM)
> 
> CW for graphic depictions of tactile hallucinations as well as visual, with general C-PTSD fueled unreality and indirect-ish self harm

“What do you know about Cerberus?” Shepard asks Anderson, sipping on something bright purple that she would like to purchase a case of.

“They call themselves a ‘pro-human’ group, but all that really means is anti-alien,” Anderson scowls. “They’re fairly secretive, but they have a reputation as a full out terrorist organization. Bad news all around from what I hear. Why do you ask?”

“I, umm…I’ve diverted some time, got a little sidetracked from Saren,” she admits. “We’re setting a course for Noveria as soon as we leave here, but…I was trying to help an admiral and it was nothing but trouble. Cerberus killed his team and then went after him for asking too many questions.”

“Kahoku?” Anderson asks, and Shepard nods. “I heard. Not about the details, though. Shepard, be careful with this. These people are dangerous.”

“And I can’t let this get in the way of stopping Saren, I know,” she follows, and Anderson shakes his head.

“Not what I said, Shepard,” he counters. “I told _you_ to be careful. You understand?”

She understands. She understands perfectly.

“I’ve wasted enough time for now, sir,” she tells him awkwardly after a pause. “I should…I should go.”

“Shepard,” Anderson stops her with nothing more than his tone. “I heard about Ontaram, too. Is it true? That it was Cerberus who…”

“Corporal Toombs has been through a lot,” she replies, sounding completely devoid of emotion.

It’s not hers. If she goes numb, it doesn’t have to be hers.

Toombs was the one who truly sacrificed, after all. And she did him one more, taking that kill from him.

Not that she regrets it. But enough is enough.

“Not sure what the purpose of playing god with thresher maws is,” Anderson says quietly. “But it seems you know better than most what they’re capable of. So I mean what I said, Shepard. Be careful.”

She’s been spiralling ever since Edolus, if she’s honest. Not that she would be honest, but that’s beside the point. She’s been falling for days and days with no hope for safe landing and no sign of a parachute.

But she has to let it go. There’s always got to be a sacrifice. And for now, this is hers.

“Aye, aye, sir,” she replies. She’s shouting behind her eyes but he knows there is only so much he can do. Nothing about this is simple, but he can try to ease her along the way.

“Let me know when you get back from Noveria,” he notes before she turns to leave. “Drinks’ll be on me.”

***

Back on the Normandy, Shepard is shaking in her cabin.

She is chillingly silent, trapped somewhere between violent trembling and completely emotionally retreating.

She does not cry. She does not scream. No one can hear her. But her body is out of her control, and her mind is falling away from her right with it.

Stumbling like this, losing herself to this and losing sight of the mission.

She knows they’re dying, and there’s no sign of a parachute.

And Cerberus, that’s a name she could live the rest of her life without ever hearing again. She wants nothing more than to find them, to track down their leadership, to destroy every trace of evidence which has ever so much as existed that she can find.

She wants to burn them to the ground, everything they have, everything they are. She decides she’s not above arson for occasions such as these.

But there simply isn’t the time. They’ve already wasted enough on this.

She can’t do one more. She lost their trail and that should be all the boost she needs to get her back on course.

She is curled up in her bed, scratching down her cheeks.

There are bugs crawling up and down her skin, and they are coming out of her eyes.

A part of her knows they are not real, but she can feel it all the same. Every sensation brings her small panic, and she is doing everything in her power not to literally claw her own eyes out.

She wonders what Kaidan would think if he saw her like this. She wonders if he would hold her, if he would stay with her. She honestly thinks he really might.

Fuck.

Bipolar depression is a special kind of hell, and when coupled with the trauma she’s just been forced to relive…

There is no grace, no elegance. No parachute.

She draws in a shaky breath and she could swear it rattles the wasps she feels nested in her lungs. She hears them buzz, feels them stir. She doesn’t know exactly what sort of genetic modification they’ve undergone to be able to burrow inside of her the way they have, but…

It isn’t real. They’re not real. Neither are the bright white butterflies swarming all around her.

She’s pretty sure she saw these as a child back on Mindoir, as well. She doesn’t remember it well, but she senses that these visions have been with her for a very long time.

The butterflies want her to hurt herself. They always do, always have. She doesn’t know how exactly they manage to communicate this to her as they do not speak, but she knows it’s what they’re saying.

Except that it isn’t real. They’re not real.

She hasn’t had an episode like this since before she went into ICT. She hadn’t missed it.

What she saw from the Prothean beacon has been keeping her up at night, too, and that cannot possibly be helping in this circumstance.

It didn’t surprise her in the slightest when the Council doubted what she saw on Eden Prime, what she saw that no one else could see, but it’s been gnawing at her ever since, regardless.

In her head, she is screaming.

But she cannot draw enough breath to do it in reality.

It occurs to her then to stop breathing entirely, in hopes of suffocating those superpowered insects stinging in her chest.

She takes a deep breath and holds it, but it only seems to make them angry. The sensations intensify, and she heaves violently when she feels something else slither up her spine and work its way into her brain, its skin dissolving and letting loose a large group of bees.

She is forced to exhale with her writhing, choking on her panic and moving into a brief coughing fit to follow the burst of saliva she barely manages to swallow in time.

She is grateful she did not give in and call out to Kaidan. She’d be humiliated if anyone else were to see her like this.

There is no grace or elegance to her current decline.

And everything she is imagining inside is only growing more and more agitated.

She can handle the responsibility of command. She’s been reminding herself of that ever since she found herself defending her abilities to Liara. She can handle this.

She isn’t dying. But she knows they all are if Saren isn’t stopped in time.

It was Eden Prime that began the most important mission of her time. It was Edolus that snapped her like this, that began the current breakdown she is enduring.

And it is the end of everything if she doesn’t get herself out of it.

Eggs are hatching in her veins. She has no idea what lays eggs that could fit in there, but that changes nothing.

It isn’t real. She keeps reminding herself this isn’t real.

She still wants Kaidan. She hates how much she still wants Kaidan.

But he is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen, with the most beautiful soul she has ever known (to her recollection, anyway). And she truly believes he could ease her through this, even if she doesn’t know how or where he would so much as start in trying to handle this.

She wishes closing her eyes would shield her from the butterflies, but she doesn’t have to see them. She can feel them watching, feel them calling her.

She is physically attempting to tear off her own skin, to dig these _things_ out of her and ease this panic and tension.

She only wants relief. And she is so fucking alone.

She is embarrassed to think it, but she almost wants to ask Ashley to pray for her. Ashley would embrace this request, she knows, and there is a strange sincerity to it. She hasn’t yet figured out if Ashley’s god is hers—if she herself has one at all—but she remembers just enough to know that that Ashley’s is the same as her mother’s was, even if the whole story of their beliefs were yet rather different from each other’s at the end of the day.

Whatever strange creatures have hatched in her bloodstream are sprouting wings, and they can bite.

But she can handle the responsibility of command. She can do her job.

Her job has never been more important than this mission has made it. But that’s okay. She will get through this.

Even if her own mental well-being has to make the sacrifice.

She can make that sacrifice. Better her than any of her people.

More weird wasps burrow through her back. She can feel the holes that form as they dig in through her skin, building nests inside her organs. Most remain in her lungs, however.

She can’t breathe.

And so she makes a decision. A very big decision.

She uncurls herself as much as she can, and the glow of her omni-tool attracts the butterflies. She thinks they want to stop her from what she is about to do. She isn’t going to let them.

That glow reflects from those starkly white wings of theirs, and they may be beautiful if only they were not so terrifying.

Kaidan is bullshitting with Ashley in the mess when he receives her ping.

Ashley’s been teasing him about the scuttlebutt that he’s got a crush, and he’s tried to pretend to be surprised.

He knows better, though. For as hard and he and Shepard have been working to hold themselves back at least until they get some proper shore leave, they haven’t exactly been subtle. It was only a matter of time before the rest of the crew caught on, even those on the lower deck they don’t know as well.

Ashley was also joking about getting to be the annoying younger sister for a change in their banter, and it is so natural. None of them have known each other very long, but he has already grown to love Ashley like a sister, indeed.

Just as he fears he has already grown to love Shepard as—

“Commander?” he answers, and Ashley simply smiles at him before she gets up to start on her way back down to armory, departing with a wave.

“Alenko,” Shepard says with equally feigned professionalism. “Are you, umm…are you busy?”

“I have some time,” he tells her, and he can hear her sigh.

“I’d like to see you in my cabin if you have a moment,” she replies, and she sounds as uncomfortable making this request as she is.

“Something to do with the mission, ma’am?” he responds, not sure how else he is supposed to.

“Just say yes,” she whispers. “Kaidan… _please.”_

She sounds desperate. He can’t come up with any ideas about what she could possibly need him for in _that_ tone, but he absolutely cannot say no.

“Be right there, ma’am,” he says, pushing down his nerves.

He walks through the door to her quarters and he doesn’t know what he was expected to find, but…

“Shepard?” His voice is light, gentle.

Exactly what she needs.

She is shaking so hard she appears to be shivering, her knees to her chest with her arms clasped around them.

And this was the best she could do, the most presentable she could make herself.

“Kaidan.” She looks up at him as well as she can, and if he didn’t know any better he’d wonder if she had a migraine, as her face looks precisely as he has been told his own does when he’s going through one.

“Kaidan, you’re the only one who knows about…you’re the only one I can trust right now, okay?”

She is rocking slightly back and forth. He is accustomed to repetitive movements as a comfort, but he knows hers do not come from the same place.

He knows she’s trying, but he sees her screaming on the inside. He sees her like no one else can.

He meets her eyes with nothing but sympathy, nothing but the closest to understanding he can offer.

There is nothing in this little cabin but love, even if neither of them can admit it yet.

And damn if she doesn’t still look so beautiful. Fragile, faltering, but so beautiful.

He isn’t sure she can possibly be anything _but_ to him.

He wants to hold her. He should probably keep his distance.

“Shepard…may I?” He glances towards the bed, requesting permission to sit beside her. The exact opposite of what he told himself to do.

And he is usually so controlled, too.

Well, shit.

She nods, however, welcoming him to join her.

He sits himself at the very edge of the bed, as far away from her as he can be. She notices, but she doesn’t fault him for it.

She is asking a lot of him right now already.

“Kaidan, I need to ask something of you. Something…fuck, I’m sorry. This…this isn’t easy.”

“I’m listening, Commander.”

“I’m not asking as your commander, Kaidan.” She is struggling so hard to maintain any semblance of composure, and it is heartbreaking. “I’m asking as your… _friend.”_

Neither of them like the sound of the final word, the strain behind it and all that truly means for them, but neither bring that much up.

“What do you need, Shepard?”

He realizes he wants to call her by her first name, even though he has never once heard it in use. He isn’t sure it’s his place to pry any further into that, but he _knows_ this is not the time regardless.

Just like he knows on some level she’s in trouble, and he wants to save her from it.

He is there to save her from it.

And he is far from her only friend aboard this ship. But it was him she turned to, him she trusts.

She lets one of her hands fall from the other’s grasp, and she nervously points towards the ceiling.

“There’s nothing there, right?” she asks him outright.

“Nothing,” he confirms. “I’m not sure I understand…”

(This may be the first time he will see her like this, but it is far from the last. It will be a long time before he sees it again, and this will be the mildest event for which he is present, but they are setting something of a precedent here, and that is more important to them than they want to admit.)

She looks up to where she was pointing and breathes out, and it hits him.

“Oh,” he lets slip out loud.

“I’ve never told anyone…anything I’ve told you about, you know, the brain shit,” she follows. _“This_ hasn’t happened in a long time and I knew I knew what it was, but I had to…I had to be sure. But you can’t tell anyone about this, okay. Please, not even Ash, I don’t want _anyone_ to—”

“I promise, Shepard,” he affirms before she keeps running away from herself. “You can trust me.”

“I know,” she nods. “Thank you.”

He looks at her directly and sees the scratches beneath her eyes. They are shallow enough that they don’t require medi-gel, but he knows she is going to want them gone before she leaves this room.

“Hey, Shepard, let me…”

He moves a little closer and puts his hands over her cheeks. He moves slowly and waits for her to approve each step he takes.

It’s a lot like watching her with Talitha.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what do you see?”

“I…I can’t describe it.” She sounds as though she’s holding back tears. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, you’re fine,” he assures her. “I can clean these up for you if you want. They’ll be undetectable by morning. No need to see Dr. Chakwas for something so small.”

“I would like that,” she tells him. “I…thank you.”

“How did…sorry, never mind.” Of course he would ask about the marks. It makes sense that he would be curious.

That, and how he cares for her. But this is still not the time.

“Fuck,” she sighs. “It’s not just seeing, it’s…there’s _feeling,_ too. It’s a little different, but it’s also not. That’s the best I’ve got right now. Please don’t ask me to elaborate.”

“I won’t,” he smiles at her. They lock eyes for a moment and she doesn’t know how she stops herself from leaning forward into him. He is so fucking beautiful and the way he touches her with that precious curl of his lips makes her want nothing more than to place hers against them.

This is the most intimate experience she has ever shared with another person, she realizes.

_This._

She wishes it could be nicer, this most delicate moment, that they could get a little grace and some elegance. No, though. No, they instead get _this._

She can’t wait for shore leave.

Having someone with her has helped, though. It hasn’t gone away, but she’s not alone and that’s making it easier to cope.

She wants to ask him to stay with her. She cannot ask him to stay with her.

He doesn’t think she should be alone and he finds himself wishing he’d ask her to stay, but it’s no surprise that she doesn’t. And he won’t suggest it, himself, with the lines of protocol between them already becoming hazy enough. If she asked he would say yes without hesitation, but he needs her to be the one to bring it up.

She does not bring it up.

He pulls away from her when he catches her staring at his lips and knows she’s thinking about doing exactly what he wants to be doing.

“Umm, did you want me to—”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s good. Thanks, Kaidan.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He leaves her to pick up whatever it is he needs to clear up her face, and she begins wringing her hands to keep herself from making it worse.

“Touch your blanket,” he says when he walks back in, announcing like he’s had an epiphany. “Touch your pillow, your mattress. Hell, touch the walls. Anything you can. Touch _everything.”_

“Speaking from experience, Alenko?” she sort of laughs, and he sits back down to tend to those minor wounds of hers.

“Not exactly, but…sort of,” he admits. “I’ve never done _this,_ but I know how it feels to need some grounding. Touch is good for that. Tether yourself to something real. It’s worth a try, anyway.”

“I…I will,” she says, the feeling of his fingers working around her cheeks working that very magic. “Thank you.”

She doesn’t think about it when she reaches for him, when she brushes her fingers through his hair.

The sharp sting of static is strong, and most unexpected. It’s enough to shock her into noticing what she’s doing and retract her harm without missing a beat.

That must be the L2, she assumes. She’s prone to occasional static discharge upon touching metal, but it’s nothing like he seems to have.

(And this is only the first time that static shock brings her back to herself, only the first time that sensation grounds her like no other. But it is not the last.)

“So, umm, are we good, then?” she asks when Kaidan backs up, evidently having completed his task.

“Yeah, Shepard. We’re good.”

There is an awkward silence which seems impossible to break. She feels something with far too many legs tearing its way through the tendons in her neck and tries her damnedest to ignore it.

She should ask him to stay, she knows. She is in no condition to save the galaxy like this. But chain of command notwithstanding, she doesn’t know how to tell him that she also needs saving.

And god, how he wants to. He wants to keep her safe, ensure that not a hair on her will be harmed.

But he cannot make that promise, and she does not ask it of him.

It could be beautiful, whatever this is between them. Maybe someday it will be.

“Dismissed, Lieutenant,” she forces out after the silence becomes unbearable.

He stands and heads towards the door, but he stops before he walks through it, turning to her with a mocking salute. “Aye, aye, Commander.”

He’s smirking, too, and there is clearly no purpose to this other than to make her smile.

And it works. And that is all he could ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, this has just been happening to me exactly over the past few days and I hoped maybe writing it out like this might be of some help. Jury's still out on whether or not it worked, but here's a thing.
> 
> Oh yeah and here's a great example of why Carrie is such a fucking disaster in ME2, lol.
> 
> Also, because why not, my and now Carrie's butterflies look almost identical to [the ones Vincent Volaju sees in the Cowboy Bebop movie](https://youtu.be/uv5TVRh4-2Q) (so you can imagine how much _that_ scared the hell out of me the first time I saw it, ahahaha).
> 
> And a note that chapter six is the second most recent update to this fic just before this chapter, because did y'all know you can rearrange chapter orders????? I just learned and that was a wonderful revelation for the chapter I wanted to add which would chronologically fall before what was originally chapter six but is now chapter seven.


	9. Omnipotence Nurturing Malevolence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intended listening: [AFI - "God Called in Sick Today"](https://youtu.be/lGG-M0vNf5s)

Shepard is sharing a quick drink in the mess with Kaidan and Ashley.

Next stop is Noveria, finally, and Liara is keeping to herself even more than usual as a result.

Wrex, too, has been more sociable since Shepard admitted she’d been ignorant about the impact of the genophage, and he’s grown to trust her enough that he accepted when she offered to help him recover his family armor. He’s been more open and she is starting to believe they are on their way to becoming friends, a journey she has been thoroughly enjoying. The old krogan’s got a lot of stories to tell and he hasn’t had nearly enough people in his life who genuinely wanted to listen.

Garrus and Tali have been getting along well, and Shepard has come to love hearing both of them talk tech at her, how excited they can get about it. It’s cute when Kaidan joins in, too, always equally as enthused.

Right now, though, it is only Shepard, Kaidan, and Ashley. What they went through together on Eden Prime seems to have forged an unbreakable bond between them, and there is something so special about it.

That’s the pattern forming. Through it all—combat, trauma, crying…laughing. There’s a pattern forming, almost taking over the murderous filigree being etched over them all.

So little time has passed, but they have all become a family. Even Anderson, stuck on the Citadel constantly taking shit from Udina.

 _Especially_ Anderson, whether he’s physically with them or not. Because he started this. This is all because of him.

Family.

Alcohol is contraband, but that’s for a more conventional CO to care about, apparently.

Neither Kaidan nor Ashley are surprised she’s so eager to spend this kind of time with them aboard the ship, however. They’re not sure anything about her casual approach to leadership stemmed from their friendship could surprise them.

There are regs, but…

But that’s why she hasn’t slept with Kaidan yet. So she’s still doing _something_ on track with her position.

For as difficult as it yet may be.

They may have shared the most intimate experience she has ever had with anyone, but they haven’t done anything about all of this sexual—all of this _romantic_ tension, so at least that’s something. Or so she tells herself.

It’s only a matter of time, they’re both sure. But eventually there will have to be shore leave. They can figure it out then.

Or so they tell themselves.

“No good can come out of this,” Ashley says between sips of cheap whiskey.

Kaidan’s drink of choice, they’ve learned.

It makes Shepard think of his eyes. She’s always enjoyed whiskey well enough, but now…

“Why do you say that?” Kaidan asks.

“Dr. T’Soni,” Ashley answers. “Ah, _Liara.”_

She is getting friendlier with their non-Alliance crew, as well. Shepard was initially fearful and incredibly uncomfortable over Ashley’s clear prejudices, but she is far more open minded than even Ashley herself knew. Her family history was not an excuse, but it’s where she learned to feel the way she has and she’s seeing it now, changing it. And that matters.

Shepard just needs to work on Pressly next.

“This whole thing with her mom,” Ashley continues. “Can’t be easy, having your own mother be your next target. She’s got to be feeling this.”

“It doesn’t have to end in disaster,” Kaidan notes, although he doesn’t quite believe it.

Shepard sighs and tries not to let her own past get in the way of this conversation. She doesn’t remember her family, and she doesn’t remember losing them. When she’d told both Kaidan and Ashley individually that she’s moved past it, what she really meant is that she’d buried it as deep down as it could go and refused to truly process it.

Sometimes, at night, she thinks that perhaps she can still hear her mother cry. But even that is distant and uncertain, and she tries not to think much of it.

“You okay, Shepard?” Kaidan asks her, because of course he sees it.

“Yep,” she lies quickly, but she catches herself. She always catches herself these days. She feels almost a shame in lying about her feelings now, in presenting her story to others as she has always done. So she amends the classic story. For them, she bares her soul as much as she can. “No, I’m…sorry, family shit gets a little weird for me sometimes.”

She lets this tiny piece of the façade crumble behind. She steals away these few darkened pages, confesses this little bit of the violence behind the lies.

It’s hardly an uncovering, she is still so obviously hidden, but saying even that much is somehow truly remarkable.

Lightyears away and over a decade past and she has remained trapped, stuck twisting in the vines which if unravelled would lead to haunting truths of such a profoundly damaged soul. She isn’t ready, though, she isn’t ready for the tears and the anger. She can’t stand the idea of letting go, she’s nowhere near accepting it and genuinely moving forward, and she isn’t sure she isn’t sure she ever will be.

“We’re here for you, Shepard,” Kaidan offers quietly.

She may never get there, but if she ever does…

Fuck, he is so beautiful.

Fuck, she cannot do this.

“How about another drink, Skipper?” Ashley follows, and for once Shepard wears her heart on her sleeve in how she immediately shows her immense gratitude on her face.

That’s Ashley’s way of echoing Kaidan’s sentiment, she knows, but how much they can all struggle with adequately voicing their emotions is so comforting in this moment, and she will gladly accept.

***

“Mom was right, I should’ve brought a sweater,” Kaidan muses upon touching down on Noveria.

The snowstorm outside is remarkable, visible through the windows within this corporate hellscape, adding yet another reason to dread the journey ahead here.

“Oh my god, you _nerd,”_ Ashley teases with a warm smile.

Ashley turns her head, however, and looks dolefully towards Shepard.

“Commander…permission to speak freely?”

As though she actually needs to ask.

She believes this is the time to be professional, though, on duty. It’s one thing to bullshit as friends on the Normandy, or even with Kaidan as a fellow subordinate while she’s here, but a whole other to openly do so with her CO—to don her uniform in public and appear to disrespect it.

And Shepard understands where she’s coming from, knows how hard she’s worked for so little recognition.

She’s also not exactly wrong. But Shepard has evidently already lost the ability to play by the rules and regulations in her command.

Not having slept with Kaidan is still big, though.

Hell, she hasn’t been with anyone since Sha’ira.

She’s in deep. But this is not the time.

“Permission granted, Chief,” she follows Ashley’s lead, opting to respond in a manner which will put Ashley more at ease in context.

“I don’t feel comfortable moving forward without…without Liara, ma’am,” Ashley tells her. “If her mother really is here, she has a right to…it doesn’t seem right confronting Matriarch Benezia on our own. Give Liara the chance.”

Family is very important to Ashley, Shepard’s gotten that message loud and clear, and the idea of taking Liara with them to potentially kill her own mother makes Shepard feel every bit as uncomfortable as it makes Ashley to not let Liara try to save her.

Not that Shepard wouldn’t love to see Liara get that chance, as well. She’s just not nearly so optimistic.

“I can head back to the ship for her,” Ashley adds. “On your order, Commander.”

She volunteers herself, and neither Shepard nor Kaidan can help but wonder if she did that to deliberately ensure it would not be Kaidan she sent back for Liara instead, to ensure she’d keep him close by her side.

And they both know they know the answer. Because that’s what friends are for, it would seem, even in these strangest of circumstances.

“Go on, Williams,” Shepard says reluctantly. It does feel like the right thing to do, Ashley’s right. However terribly wrong it feels at the same time.

“Aye, aye,” Ashley nods and walks back to the docking bay.

And it’ll give Ashley a chance to spend some more time around Garrus and Wrex and Tali, too, not being a part of the ground team this time.

She and Wrex would have a lot to talk about, Shepard thinks to herself. They’ll be good friends once they both break out of their shells, she’s sure of it.

Because that’s the pattern forming, this camaraderie like none of them have ever known before. And they are all caught in admiration of it, how easily they can depend on one another, how eagerly they all use this bond to unwind through even the worst of what this mission has to offer.

“I don’t like this,” Shepard admits to Kaidan once she is certain Ashley is no longer within earshot. “What if Liara really can’t fix this and we have to follow through with taking Benezia down? If she really has to help kill her own mother? She’ll have to live with that for the rest of her life, Kaidan, and she’s a fucking asari.”

“Ash is right,” Kaidan replies. “Liara deserves the chance to try.”

“I know,” Shepard acquieces. “I know she does. And she’s said they haven’t been close in a long time, but…I don’t know, this feels wrong. _Not_ bringing her along feels wrong, too, but…”

“There may not be a right move here, Shepard,” he says calmly, and his forced resolve does nothing to reassure her. “All we can do is our best.”

“And if _our best_ isn’t good enough?” she snaps with an animosity in her voice which wasn’t intended and damn well isn’t fair. “I’m sorry, Kaidan, I…”

“I know, Shepard. I understand.”

He doesn’t, but he does.

This is all wrong, no matter how they play it, but that much is outside their control.

And that is not an easy concept for Kaidan in particularly to accept, but for her—for _them,_ for their crew—he will try.

He will do his best.

“So it’s true?” Liara asks with a nervous tension upon her arrival. “Benezia really is here?”

“Seems that way,” Shepard answers. She buries her own damage again, holds back her own soul. She picks up the routine, hides away her personal trauma which can never have the beautiful closure she now desperately wishes upon Liara. “You sure you’re up for this? There’s no shame if—”

“Yes,” she interrupts, but then immediately attempts to correct herself. “Oh goddess, Commander, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” Shepard tells her, perfectly mimicking how Kaidan just said it to her. “I understand. Let’s move out.”

***

A steady and highly unwanted involvement in corporate politics, a snowstorm, a whole bunch of dead mercenaries and asari commandos, a traumatized but ethically corrupt science team, a shit ton of information about indoctrination and lost relays, more geth, one very important betrayal, and a swarm of _fucking rachni_ later, and Matriarch Benezia is gone.

Liara is holding up fairly well considering, but Shepard is deeply ashamed by how hard she’s taking this loss she has no right to claim.

And Benezia’s last stand came with the revelation that this is all so much worse than they’d feared.

“How’s she doing?” Ashley asks. She’s brewing tea in the mess, taking in the reality of the mission brief. “She must be…I can’t even imagine…”

“She seems okay,” Shepard says. “She doesn’t seem to want to talk about it, but—”

“So she’s probably not okay, Skipper.” Ashley’s voice is gentle and patient.

She’s taking Shepard’s own lack of a family into account, dancing around the trauma Shepard has buried as delicately as she can.

“It really wasn’t her fault,” Ashley sighs. “Matriarch Benezia’s. She was only ever trying to do the right thing. That’s…”

“A lot, yeah.”

“And _mind control?_ Saren can—shit, Skipper, that’s a whole other ballgame. This is not what we signed up for. Hell, I never knew this was even possible.”

“You’re not looking to transfer, are you, Chief?” Shepard smiles, because she knows her answer already.

“Just kidding, ma’am,” Ashley replies sincerely, but then she catches Shepard’s expression and matches it easily enough. “Okay, not about not signing up for _this_ exactly, this is _definitely_ beyond anything we‘d imagined. I signed up, though, Commander, and I’m sure as hell not going anywhere now. I wouldn’t walk away from this for anything, even if it kills me.”

“Let’s pray it doesn’t come to that,” Shepard laughs uncomfortably. “Really, Ash, I know it’s not exactly protocol-compliant but…does this crew feel like a sort of, I don’t know, _family_ to you, too?”

She wants that, Ashley can’t miss it. It’s genuine, she isn’t seeing anything that isn’t there just because she wants it. This bond is real, that’s for damn sure, but it makes her happier than she may realize to have it.

 _“Also_ not what I signed up for,” Ashley smiles. “But damn right it does, Skipper. It’s an honor to be a part of it.”

Ashley comes from a large family, Shepard has learned. Unfortunately, it will be years yet before Shepard feels safe enough for her own mind to open up to her, to show her that she was also once the oldest of four who’d been close with her younger siblings and devoted parents. She and Ashley have more in common than either of them know, and they both suspect as much but neither will ever mention it.

Ashley stares blankly into her tea. It can be difficult for her to express how she feels at times, and this is certainly one of them.

“Still thinking about Liara?” Shepard asks, as though she needs to.

She can’t close this story, can’t set down its darkened pages, can’t ignore what’s crumbling behind them.

“I can’t not,” Ashley admits. “I just keep thinking if it was me, if _my_ mom had gotten involved in this somehow, and I had to hear her tell me how proud I made her right before…”

Ashley can’t even say it. This is too much for her, caught up in the twisting story, unable to unwind.

“Maybe you should talk to her,” Shepard suggests.

“You’re joking, right?” Ashley retorts, and Shepard only shakes her head.

“You’ve got more of the heart for this than I do,” Shepard confesses. “She told me she’s okay, I let it go. But I don’t know how to push that, I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to say to her. I don’t mean to seem cold, I really don’t, but…I can’t give her the empathy she might need right now like you can, Ash. You should talk to her.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Ashley deflects. “I have a heart to heart with T’Soni, you have a heart to heart with Alenko.”

“Ash—”

“No, no, Skipper, you’re right,” Ashley concedes. “I’ll talk to her. Better pray I don’t stick my foot in my mouth, though. If this goes wrong, I’m blaming you.”

Ashley still feels guilty over making an offhand comment prior about not buying Liara’s story and then Shepard reminding her not everyone has a happy family life. Shepard didn’t mean to make her feel bad and she knows it, but she’s picked up on the suffering hidden in Shepard’s eyes and she intends to tread more carefully.

“You’ll be fine, I promise,” Shepard assures her. “Dismissed, Chief.”

“Ma’am.”

Ashley gets up to brew some more tea: another for herself and one to take to Liara. Shepard gets up and heads to her cabin to call it a night.

She barely sleeps, but she nearly cries. Tears burn in her eyes but refuse to come out in full force, and what little rest she does get is tainted by the sound of her mother crying from years long lost behind them.

Nothing about this mission was ever going to be easy, but oh how she hopes it cannot get any harder than _this._


	10. And There Is No Better Part of Me, You’ll See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intended listening: [Coheed and Cambria - "Made Out of Nothing (All That I Am)"](https://youtu.be/TcMUiPBDIfg)

Shepard likes Garrus. She likes Garrus a lot. Garrus keeps her in line.

He gets tough calls, he gets knowing when not to take prisoners. He is exactly the kind of person she needs by her side in this.

She’s struggling with her command. She hasn’t reconciled taking Liara to Peak 15 and she worries she’s getting too soft. She is too close to her crew and it’s beginning to scare her. She could lose any of these people at any given time, and they all knew this going in. But she never dreamed she’d have this kind of relationship with them, that the very thought of losing them could be so horrifying.

Garrus has quickly become a close friend and she cares about him dearly. She fears losing him as much as anyone else, as he does for her. But he gets it. So he is who she confides in when she starts to feel her control slipping, when she begins to question her ability to lead those she’s come to love, each in their own way.

Turian ale and Peruvian whiskey fill the silences, the tense but comfortable spaces in between. They are at ease together, casually commiserating. They are both deeply troubled, but the other’s presence makes it okay.

There are no lines between them, and they bring out the best parts in each other.

There is no misunderstanding. There is only friendship, clarity, laughter.

Moments to be alright, to breathe.

And it feels so damn good.

“This sure isn’t where I thought my pursuit of Saren would go,” Garrus laughs. “But I _also_ thought I’d be too busy drowning in C-Sec bureaucracy bullshit to ever get this far, so you take the good with the…with the good, Shepard. Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?”

“No,” she laughs, but god knows she’s telling the truth. “Has anyone told you that you don’t worry _enough,_ Vakarian?”

“Spirits, yes,” he laughs with her. “My father, for one. Also, my father. Alright, actually, _only_ my father. Pallin would tell me I’m more your speed, I’m sure. And I’ve caught Joker referencing the stick I apparently keep up my ass more than a few times.”

“That’s just Joker for you,” Shepard sighs, and there she goes again.

“Okay, Shepard, pour another round and lay it all out,” Garrus responds to the way her face falls.

“Only if you promise not to bring up krogan testicles again,” she snickers.

“Hey, _you_ brought it up now,” he teases, and both tip their bottles until their glasses are filled to their brims once again.

She sees him through the darkest light, makes it all okay. No judgment, but acceptance. She is a shelter from the storm.

She makes him believe. In her, in the mission, in _himself._

And that is ever something to hold onto.

“Okay, Garrus,” she says after shooting back the whole glass. She stops to pour another. And as per usual, casually using a crew member’s first name goes virtually unnoticed. It’s simply how it is aboard this ship.

Funny how Garrus actually has no fucking clue what _her_ first name is, however. But he doesn’t question it. It’s just one of her quirks, he assumes.

“What the hell am I doing here like this?” she asks, and it’s obvious enough her question is rhetorical. “I’m a soldier, Garrus. I’m expendable. We are _all_ expendable. I’ve lost more than my share already, seen enough of this shit first hand. Hell, even Normandy’s first fucking ‘shakedown’ had casualties. I know the score. That’s why we have regs. Keep it professional. Camaraderie’s important in its own right, sure, good for morale. But there’s a limit. Attachment’s a whole other issue. Real friendship. Closeness. I’d die for any of you. I’d die for a perfect stranger. That’s my job. And anyone in this uniform would do the same. It’s the job, that’s how it works. But now, here, with all of you…”

She’d be reduced back down to nothing, all that she is torn from her forever again.

This is not the same old story. This is a miracle, and she has never been more afraid of failure.

“I’m turian, Shepard, you don’t need to explain _the job_ to me,” Garrus teases. “If duty to your people meant you can never get too close to any of them, mine would have died out centuries ago.”

“I…” Vulnerability is incoming. Vulnerability she’d never have shown, never have _felt_ before. “I’ve been running, Garrus. Long as I can remember I’ve been running. Not just because of military life, either, although it does make for a damn handy excuse. Anything to help you sleep at night, right. Knowing you’re waking up alone. That you will _always_ be waking up alone. And it’s your choice. But maybe it’s not really what you want. Maybe you don’t know what you want. But friends, family, whatever, _this_ …this was never in the cards. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to have this much to lose.”

_I’ve already lost too much._

She is able to prevent herself saying that part out loud, though.

But she could. She could say it if she let herself, and she very nearly does.

_Fuck._

She wasn’t supposed to have this much to lose. Not now, on the most important and potentially riskiest mission of all their lives, and not ever.

She’s already lost too much.

“You know what _I_ want, Shepard?” Garrus understands. Garrus doesn’t take shit, doesn’t walk on eggshells. She needs Garrus, Garrus keeps her grounded

And more and more, it’s becoming abundantly clear to him that he needs her just as much.

“I want revenge. I want to make Saren suffer. I want to destroy every last damn geth with the nerve to haul its trigger-happy synthetic ass past the Veil. And you know, when we’re done with them, I want to get all the rest of them who stayed in hiding, too. I want revenge. And so do you. And as far as I can see, this is the best damn crew possible to find it with.”

“You get me, Garrus,” she laughs quietly. “You get it.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he agrees. “Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Remember that salarian doctor I told you about? I think I’ve got a lead…”

“Got coordinates? Give them to Joker, we’ll get right on it.”

It’s not even a question. She’d do anything for him. She’d do anything for any of them. It’s terrifying, but it’s the truth.

She’s in deep. Too deep. This is all Anderson’s fault. She wishes he were here.

Dr. Saleon is going to pay for what he’s done, though. This revenge has been a long time coming, and it sounds like a great detour to take while they track down Saren to punish him for his crimes, as well.

A great palate cleanser for side missions after the multiple Cerberus shitshows, too, which has also continued to sit with her most uneasily.

But she loves this crew, more than she should and more than she’d ever dreamed she could. She has the best people possible at her side, yes, this is true. As long as she doesn’t lose them.

She’s already lost enough.

She’s already lost too much.


End file.
